


Do you remember the first time?

by L_ThankYouHBK1



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (Its Daario), Amnesia, Angst, Buts its a Jonmund fic, Day 5: In Cannon, Fluff, Forgive Me, Hurt/Comfort, I'm sorry Dani fans, In Universe but better, It hurts but it all ends well, Jonmund Week, Jonmund Week 2020, M/M, Minor Character Death, Not Beta Read, Smut, Vulnerability, because these boys deserve it, jonmundsummer2020, rain kiss, trust me - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:33:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23324779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_ThankYouHBK1/pseuds/L_ThankYouHBK1
Summary: They leaned into each other, foreheads pressed together gently as the water rushed over them.  Gods he was gorgeous.  Tormund had waited so long for this.   There was always some insurmountable object in their path.   But this, this was their time.  And Tormund would have given anything to convince Jon to stay, to go north with him.  The real north.  Damn his stubborn crow and his unwavering sense of honor.  But holding onto an angry thought while he breathed in the smaller man was impossible.  Tormund cupped his jaw tenderly, brushing the dark curls from Jon’s face.“Promise me crow.  Promise…"
Relationships: Tormund Giantsbane/Jon Snow
Comments: 60
Kudos: 153
Collections: A Song Of Ice And Fire and Game Of Thrones, Game of Thrones, Jonmund fics





	1. I've Come Undone

**Author's Note:**

> For Jonmund week 2020.
> 
> Jonmund week Day 4: Vulnerability
> 
> My first fan fic... ever. God I love these boys!
> 
> Special dedication to the Jonmund Discord who have been so welcoming. You all are so talented, thank you for the inspiration!

“Gods its warm.” Tormund complained as he shed one of his many layers and hung it from an old weirwood branch in the Winterfell godswood.  
Jon sat with his back to the tree and his eyes closed, content as a cool breeze kissed his warm skin. After defeating the night king, the weather had taken a dramatic turn and spring was threatening to break through the thin crust of ice that still clung to the trees.

Tormund paced back and forth, glancing at Jon every few minutes, clearly annoyed by his calm demeanor. “You don’t have to go. You’ve done enough” he whispered as a deep rumble of thunder reverberated through the sky mirroring his dark mood.

“I gave my word, and I will keep it” said Jon, eyes still closed, breathing in the scent of the coming rains.

“Then I will come with you”

“You belong in the North”

“So do you”

Jon sighed. “We’ve been discussing this for days. Your people need you. You must lead them back home safely. The free folk have been through so much. They deserve to know some peace.”

“So do ….”

“Enough” Jon interrupted. He had closed the gap between them silently as Tormund focused on a flash of lightening sprawling across the darkening sky. Jon was only inches from his face and his deep grey eyes reminded Tormund of the rolling clouds above them, dangerous but achingly beautiful. He didn’t have time to finish the thought as Jon grabbed him by the neck and pulled him down for a breathless kiss. In the same moment the skies opened up and the rain engulfed them as they clung to eachother.

Neither of them made a move for cover. They leaned into each other, foreheads pressed together gently as the water rushed over them. Gods he was gorgeous. Tormund had waited so long for this. There was always some insurmountable object in their path. But this, this was their time. And Tormund would have given anything to convince Jon to stay, to go north with him. The real north. Damn his stubborn crow and his unwavering sense of honor. But holding onto an angry thought while he breathed in the smaller man was impossible. Tormund cupped his jaw tenderly, brushing the dark curls from Jon’s face. 

“Promise me crow. Promise…”

A thunderous sound jolted Tormund awake, heart still racing as the last embers of his sweet dream drifted away. He moved to the window for some fresh air and glimpsed what he thought were black wings as a bolt of lightening illuminated the night sky. Had he imagined it, was he still dreaming? Then another crack of thunder and bolt of lightning gave him confirmation. A raven struggled in the strong winds gusting over Castle Black’s front gate. Tormund squinted against the black of night to watch it land safely in the old Maester’s rookery. Tormund closed his eyes, inhaled deeply and said a small prayer to whatever gods may be listening. Please.

He dressed quickly and set off at once toward the maester’s chambers, trying all the while to clamp down the sudden flash of fear he found pressing heavy on his chest. He had sent most of his people back beyond the wall a few days prior, and Castle Black was as quiet as a tomb. One strong push and the old oak door creaked open. Tormund locked eyes with the old man and knew instantly something was very wrong.

“It’s the King…err.. well, Lord Snow”

Tormund opened his mouth but no words would come.

The Maester stuttered a bit but continued. “He has been injured. Seems he was trying to shield civilians as the city began to burn. Buildings were collapsing and he… his fate is uncertain.” “Either way” he stuttered again before letting out a whisper. “they are bringing him home.” Without a word, Tormund turned and stepped back into the cool crisp night, sucking in deep gulps of air to try and stifle the bile rising in the back of his throat. He sank to his knees as the rain poured down around him and heard a low, mournful howl rise up on the wind. He could not tell if the sound came from the great white wolf Jon left in his care, or his own soul. 

The day after they had received the message explaining Jon’s injuries and Arya’s plan to bring him home, Tormund had packed the strongest horse at Castle Black and headed south. A few miles into his journey, his horse had shied and reared nearly knocking him from his saddle. The great white wolf appeared from out of the tree line, piercing red eyes locked with his own. Tormund could see his own reflection in those eyes, the sadness familiar, the fear his own. He took a deep breath and kicked his horse into motion and they resumed their headlong gallop down the kings road together. 

His plan was to ride the entire distance to Jon. Meet Arya wherever he might find her on the kings road and do… what, he didn’t know. But at least he would be with his crow. But when he had stopped at Winterfell to check for news Sansa had somehow convinced him to stay and wait with her. They did not know what path Arya would choose. She was making her way back in secret. Winterfell had received word that Tyrion had murdered the Queen after she reigned fire down on Kings Landing. The Unsullied were out seeking revenge against any “traitors” who had rebelled against the her final orders to burn the city.

A few weeks passed in silence, no ravens, no riders in the night. And Tormund was deeply regretting his decision to stay. He could see he was making the inhabitants of Winterfell un-easy, but he simply couldn’t reign it in. He drank nearly every hour on the hour and sent servants running from his chambers as he hurled horns of ale into the fire and cursed the old gods and the new gods and the fire gods in kind. 

He tried to work out his frustrations in the fighting yard but had lost his temper with an overly cocky Knight of the Vale and had to be pulled off by three norther soldiers before he bashed the kids skull in for good measure. 

Sometimes late in the evenings, Sansa would come to sit with him. Neither of them spoke, staring into the flames in the hearth till long past the hour of the wolf when Sansa would finally retire. 

He resisted sleep as best he could but into the early morning hours, when the ale finally took him, the nightmares would come. He would wake in his chair by cooling embers, gasping for air not knowing where he was until his eyes settled on the great white wolf staring silently in turn.

Sansa, at her wits end, had practically begged him to get out of the castle for night or two. So he found himself 5-6 miles north of the Winterfell gate, on the trail of an impressive stag he hadn’t seen the likes of in years. In truth, as much as the stag thrilled him, he was doing a piss poor job of tracking. The anxiety of not knowing where Jon was or how he was washed over him in waves. He sat down on a log to rest and slipped into a vivid daydream of the day they met.  


A young man, prettier than both his daughters. Green as summer grass yet hard and lean. When Jon walked into the tent that day and mistakenly knelt in front of him, Tormund could not mistake the hitch in his own breath or the heat rising in his belly. Piercing grey eyes, covered in black from head to toe, Tormund had never felt such a powerful mix of hatred and intrigue, it was intoxicating. 

A rustle of leaves nearby dragged Tormund back to the present. Ghost stood before him silently, ears pricked high and muzzle red from a fresh kill he had likely just made. Tormund was about to joke that the wolf was having much better luck then him when Ghost took off like shot. Seconds later a horn blasted from the south. Winterfell. Jon.

He was completely out of breath when he reached the gate but he still managed to take the stairs two at a time in the tower where Jons bed chamber resided. 

Halfway up the staircase he nearly knocked Sam to the ground in his haste. He hauled the maester to his feet and breathed out Jon’s name. Sam did not speak immediately, and Tormund felt a pang in his heart when he noted Sams puffy red eyes and quivering chin. No, it can’t be. His crow is not dead. He did not leave him alone in this wretched world again. Tormund began to shake the boy wildly out of frustration. 

“Tell me” he growled, inches from the Sams face.

“He… he…” Sam looked as though he would cry again at any moment.

Tormund spouted some curse in the old tongue and Sam’s eye grew big as saucers.

“He… he lives” stuttered Sam and landed with a thump on the staircase when Tormund dropped him and vaulted the rest of the way up the stairs to the chamber door.

He locked eyes with Arya and she held up her hand in an attempt to stall him. 

“Tormund, please. You can’t go in. I must speak with you first” she declared standing steadfast in his way. 

He looked wild, he felt unhinged. The adrenaline was coursing through him, his whole body was aflame, but he used the very last bit of control he had left to whisper to her. “I respect you little wolf, but if you don’t get out of my way…”

She took a deep breath. Her eyes bore into his, her left hand gliding across the pommel of her sword like old habit. A second later she slid aside and Tormund rammed the door open with such force that the inhabitants inside were rendered silent immediately. Everyone was staring at him but he was blind to it. He caught sight of grey eyes framed in dark curls and his heart lept into this throat. He stumbled forward, delirious with joy, mumbling thank yous and curses and gods know what else as he headed straight for man who sat on the bed wide eyed and blinking. The force of the hug punched the breath from Jons lungs, but Tormund let go immediately when he felt the crow flinch.

“My little crow. Are you injured? Did I hurt you?”

Jon opened his mouth but Sansa spoke for him. “Tormund …"

Tormund interjected, rounding on everyone in the room and ranting about not sending word, and being sick with worry, and why the fuck do you have ravens if you aren’t going to use them?? 

He turned his attention back to his beautiful crow. He had fresh scars across his forehead and jaw and his ribs were bandaged tightly with clean white cloth. Worse for wear yes, but he was alive. He hadn’t left him, and Tormund made a silent promise to never let him go again. He reached out to gently cup Jon’s injured jaw, but another flinch stopped him in his tracks.

“Are you alright crow” Tormund whispered, unable able to hide the confusion and hurt in his voice.

“M’sorry”, Jon whispered as he scanned all the faces in the room and finally landed back on Tormund. 

“Do I know you?”


	2. A Thread of a Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon caught him coming out of the corner of his eye and turned just in time for Tormund to breath his name and slam him up against the stable door. “Not friends.” Tormund rumbled, as he pulled Jon into a bruising kiss. His rage at Sansa dampened quickly and he pulled back, muttering an apology, and wincing a bit when he found Jon’s wide eyes.
> 
> “Not friends then” Jon said breathless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, but it turned into more chapters than I was expecting! Isn't that always the case? This is a bit of a setup chapter, and angst and frustrations remain, but happiness is coming... do you believe me?!

Tormund stood just outside the treeline of the godswood, hurling axes at make believe targets till his shoulders ached. This was his favorite spot these last two weeks. It was peaceful in the godswood, no one dared bother him there. And he had a clear view of the tower that housed Jon’s sleeping quarters. After talking to Sam at length, Tormund had reluctantly agreed to give Jon space. Though new to this Maester business, Tormund believed Sam had Jon’s best interests at heart. All these questions and unfamiliar faces were causing him stress. He needed time to recover. His memory loss may resolve with time, these things are too difficult to predict. With every remembered sentence Tormund hurled his axe harder, till an unexpected voice made him jump from his skin.

“Wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of those throws”, Jon whispered hesitantly. Letting out a small laugh when Tormund whipped around surprised. “M’sorry, didn’t mean to startle you”.

Tormund stood there silent, trying to catch his breath. Jon was wearing a grey, laced up jerkin with a small direwolf emblazed on the shoulder. The color had returned to his face and he looked stronger, though Tormund could still see the outline of bandages around his stomach and the occasional grimace he made while shifting his weight. “You’re Tormund, right?”

Something ached way down deep in Tormunds chest, but me managed a muffled “Aye”.

“I’ve seen you down here practicing every day, rain or shine”, Jon said

“I… I wanted to be close” Tormund whispered, eyes locked on the smaller man as Jon wrenched an axe from the nearby tree and ran his fingers over it, admiring the craftsmanship.

“Sansa has been explaining things to me. Helping me try and remember. She tells me that we are good friends”

A sound escaped Tormund’s lips, something between a cackle and sob, and he watched Jon’s brow furrow a bit. Damn Sansa. It’s true that Jon wasn’t exactly comfortable with public displays of affection, a fact that Tormund blamed on his overly proper southern upbringing. But Tormund also wasn’t exactly quiet about the way he felt for Jon, especially in those few days before he had left for Kings landing. He was certain Sansa knew, perhaps even before Jon did. 

The truth was, Tormund had always been attracted to Jon, but the timing had never been right. Too many distractions, too much war and fear and death pressing in on them from every direction. He thought he knew how Jon felt, though the crow never spoke of his feelings explicitly. He had occasionally looked up from a vigorous sparring match and found the Lord Commander watching him with darkening eyes. He had wanted to act so many times, but there was always something else in their path. A beloved sister deserving of revenge, a great battle for Winterfell, an army of whites at their door, a dragon queen. 

His resistance had come crashing down that faithful night beyond the wall. He watched from atop a dragon’s back as Jon was hit from behind and dragged beneath icy waters. Tormund had shouted and tried to vault off the animal but that damned man, the one they call The Dog, had held his arm like a vice. Seconds later they were flying through the air, leaving the crow to certain death. Tormund had raged. How could they leave him behind? Jon was everything, couldn’t they see? He was fire and ice. He was air, and Tormund crouched on the sandy shore of East watch, drowning. When he heard the horn signaling a ranger’s return he had flown through the gates, pulling the lifeless crow from his horse and cradling him gently in his arms. He carried him inside on his own, peeling off the frozen layers one by one and tucking Jon between the soft blankets and his own body. He did not take his eyes off him for a moment, willing every ragged breath from Jon’s body and snarling at anyone who dared come near him. When the crow had finally awoken Tormund had expected him to realize where he was and shy away. Instead, Jon had sighed deeply, quietly breathing out Tormund’s name and leaning his battered body against his barrel chest once more. He had pressed a kiss to Jon’s forehead then, and they had both drifted off to sleep again. It was the best sleep of Tormund’s life. 

Jon cleared his throat and Tormund snapped back to the present. “Friends, well… where do I begin?” Tormund whispered as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

“Boys.” Arya interrupted out of nowhere. She really was incredibly quiet. “Jon, Sansa is looking for you. Says you need to check in with Sam about your progress before the feast tonight”.

“Aye” Jon said, shooting Tormund one last curious glance before heading back to his tower.

“Tormund, some of your people have begun to arrive and Sansa would like to speak with you before all the festivities” Arya said, holding his gaze with an unreadable look.

“I have a few things to say to her myself” Tormund muttered, ripping his last axe from the tree and making to follow the little wolf back to that bloody castle.

The castle was buzzing with preparations for the feast in Jon’s honor. Sansa had said that the safe return of Jon and most of the Northern army deserved to be celebrated. Tormund had also heard her whispering to Arya of her hopes that seeing so many familiar faces would jog something in Jon’s memory. She had even invited some of the Free folk that still lingered at the wall waiting for Tormund’s promised return. He knew he had been gone too long, he knew what they would say when they saw him next. But he did not have the will to leave without his crow, and so he remained. He made his way through the castle halls and paused at the entrance of Sansa’s study while her two main guards gave him the once over. Finally, the taller of the guards muttered that he had been expected and opened the doors for him. 

Sansa sat at her desk, rummaging through piles of paperwork and important looking scrolls. “Tormund, how are you? I heard your people were arriving, have you been down to see them?” she said, still not looking up from her work.

“Friends?” Tormund growled, low and quiet. 

“Sorry?” Sansa said, shooting him a questioning look.

“Jon and I, we are… good friends?” he was on fire again, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

She stared at him. Her gaze hardening before his eyes, her tone tinged with ice. “What should I have said?

“Don’t play dumb with me Lady wolf” Tormund gritted out the words with all the malice he could muster. In truth, he found Jon’s sister to be more intimidating that any warrior he had faced. She could be so cold, unreadable. Something Tormund was sure must have come from her mother. Jon was the same in many ways, strong and stubborn. But where Sansa was calm and calculating Jon was wild and passionate. Though Jon hardly ever spoke openly about his feelings he could never hide his true intentions from Tormund no matter how hard he tried. Sansa’s mask was unnerving and foreign to him. “You know he loves me” Tormund whispered, willing himself to remain confident in her presence.

“I know he means a great deal to you” Sansa said, softening a bit. “But he is my brother, I must do what’s best for him while he recovers.”

“And remembering me, remembering us…” Tormund stuttered a bit but willed himself through it. “…that’s not what’s best for him?”

“He must focus on what’s most important if we are to make it through this. Winterfell is his home and whether he remembers or not, his … his heart… must be here.”

“He belongs in the North, the real North.”

“He belongs here with his family who love him”, she spat back. “We must rebuild the North, recover from all this death and destruction. The northern families are trusting in the Starks to make the North whole again.”

“You’re the lady of Winterfell, you can do all that and more on your own.”

“Jon gave up his crown to save us from the Night King and the Night King is gone. The death of the dragon queen leaves our status open. The North intends to declaire its freedom despite whatever power rises up in the south. We need a leader and people will look to Jon and the Stark family once more.

“He does not even remember who he is!” 

“I will remind him who he is”

Tormund wanted to laugh in her face, but managed to hold it in. “You have no idea who he is, what he wants” he sneered.

Tormund watched as she shielded herself in ice once more. “We are the last Starks in Winterfell. What we want means very little”. She spun her heels on the last word and left him fuming. 

Tormund stormed to the window and flew open the shutters to gulp in the cool night air. He caught sight of Jon in the courtyard, talking with a stable boy and caressing a beautiful back mare. Emotions overwhelming him he stormed out of the room and headed for the main stairway. 

Jon caught him coming out of the corner of his eye and turned just in time for Tormund to breath his name and slam him up against the stable door. “Not friends.” Tormund rumbled, as he pulled Jon into a bruising kiss. His rage at Sansa dampened quickly and he pulled back, muttering an apology, and wincing a bit when he found Jon’s wide eyes. 

“Not friends then” Jon said breathless. 

Tormund lowered his eyes, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. It wasn’t the stable boys open mouthed gawk that had shamed him into silence. He could give a rats ass how these stuck up southerners felt about his need for this man. It was Jon’s face, full of genuine shock that had halted him, like a bucket of ice water to his core. “Meet me in my room at sun down.” Tormund had blurted, and left Jon standing there rather than risk losing himself again. His anger at Sansa’s words, and the crippling loss he still felt for his crow had overpowered reason. He would never take from Jon without permission. He craved his crows consent most of all. In the dead of night, when Jon would finally let go of his southern sensibilities and ask to be touched, beg to be held, to be loved, it was a drug Tormund craved more than anything. 

As he walked back to his room he tried to steel himself for what was coming. He would not listen to Sansa and her noble plans. He did not care if the entire North crumbled to the ground at his feet. He would convince his crow where he truly belonged. He would recount every meaningful conversation, every beautiful moment of their friendship and love if need be. Jon would come back to him. 

Later that evening Tormund paced back and forth in his quarters. He had stood in front of the looking glass in his room more than once, adjusting his wild hair and furs and feeling like a silly green pup once again. A knock at the door and he swallowed down more anxiety than he had felt in ages. And when he opened the door, the breath was stolen from his lungs.

Jon was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Still, Tormund thought, always. He had bathed and trimmed his beard and was dressed head to toe in the Stark grey and white. His hair lay unbound at his shoulders framing his face. He had lost some weight during his recovery, and his jaw line was more severe than he last remembered. Tormund reached out to touch it absentmindedly but caught himself in the last moment. 

Jon stood in the entranceway, eyes drifting over the taller man until Tormund shifted sideways, a silent invitation. Jon stepped through the threshold, scanning the room as he made his way over to the crackling fire. Neither of them spoke for a long while, Jon watching the flames and Tormund watching him.

Tormund opened his mouth but Jon spoke first, “I… I need to say something.” he muttered, looking up into Tormund’s eyes and rendering him speechless again. Tormund had practiced a little speech in his head, an epic story that was sure to jog his crow’s memory, but all those words had left him now.

“Of course.” is all he could manage to say and then he strode over to the little table by the fire and leaned against it trying to appear calmer than he felt. 

“I don’t know you, I don’t remember us.” Jon said and watched as Tormund closed his eyes and swallowed deeply. “But earlier today when you, when you kissed me… I felt something”.

Tormund opened his eyes slowly, the tiniest ember of hope fluttered in his stomach. “I don’t know why, but I trust that there is some sort of a truth between us.” Jon broke eye contact then and turned back to the flames. “Its because of this that I’m asking you to stop”.

“Stop.” Tormund said surprised. “Stop, what”.

“Stop this, whatever there may have been between us, it has to end.”

“May have been…”, Tormund tried to control his tone, but his feelings were getting the better of him. “Did Sansa put you up to this?”

I’ve spoken to Sansa yes, and Arya and Bran. They have told me all that has happened, all that needs to happen. I hear your people wait for you on the other side of the wall. I know you are a good leader, and you will leave Winterfell to bring them home. I must remain. 

“Damn you and your sense of duty Snow.” Tormund gritted, shaking his head in disbelief. “You don’t even know yourself, and yet that unyielding devotion, that constant need to shoulder other’s burdens, remains steadfast.”

Jon’s demeanor grew dark and Tormund bit back a grin. There he was.

“It’s simple, they are my family; I need to do all I can to help them.” Jon gritted his teeth, “Anything else would be wrong”.

Tormund grabbed Jon’s hand and placed it on his chest, just over his hammering heart. “Tell me crow, does this feel wrong?” Jon made to pull away but the bigger man held him tight. “You said you felt something between us earlier, that you trusted I would tell you the truth. Some things can’t be pushed aside Jon, some things are stronger than even your damned honor”. 

They stood staring at each other, and the look Jon was giving him sent shivers down his spine. The crow licked his lips and leaned in ever so slightly and Tormund was not sure if he was about to receive a kiss or punch to the face.

The tension was broken by a loud cough in the doorway. A servant stood with his eyes downcast as if he had witnessed something he shouldn’t. “Pardon M’ Lord, they are waiting for you in the great hall”

“Aye” Jon said, face quickly turning neutral as he slid from Tormund’s grasp and moved to the doorway. He turned and gave Tormund one last unreadable look and disappeared down the hallway.

Tormund’s heart still hammered in his chest and he leaned back against the table once more. A small smile ghosted across his lips and he grabbed up the clean clothes laying on his bed. He had a feast to go to, a heart to win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Remember, comments are food! <3


	3. You are mine...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He stopped at the treeline and felt his fur bristle at the sight. A man, his man, was there amongst the clearing. He was not alone, being held tightly against a tree as the storm raged on. But as quickly as the fear and anger had arisen, it was gone again. He was safe, he was happy in the grip of this wildling man. Thunder boomed overhead and lighting crashed all around but there was nothing but peace in his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short Chapter, but let's see things from Jon's POV.

Jon took a couple of deep breaths in the hallway. Why was he so fired up? He didn’t know this Tormund, his curses shouldn’t mean anything to him. He closed his eyes and relaxed his arms to his sides and immediately felt something warm and soft in his hands. The wolf. Ghost. When Jon had awoken to strange faces in a strange room it was this beast that had kept him calm. A warm weight that grounded him, piercing red eyes that had sparked the tiniest glimmer of recognition in his soul. He did not even know himself, but he knew Ghost, and that was enough to cling to in the darkness. He stroked the white fur and his mind drifted back to the stables, to that kiss. Jon hadn’t appreciated being surprised; he had nearly stabbed the man in the side with his dirk reflexively. But when he thought back on it now, it was his own body that had surprised him the most. Tormund had pulled away quickly, but his jaw, where Tormund had held him, tingled and he had felt heat in his belly and steam rising from his skin.

And just a moment ago in Tormund’s sleeping chambers, he was caught off guard again. The man had insulted him and he had leaned in, readying himself for blows. But that anger had slipped dangerously close to something else, something Jon didn’t immediately recognize. He’s not sure what he would have done if they were not interrupted. He shook his head from side to side trying to focus, surely Lords of castles such as these didn’t kiss total strangers in the middle of heated arguments. He continued down the hall and heard the squires in front of him announce him to the growing party. He buried his hands in ghosts white fur and took another few deep breaths to calm his nerves.  
Jon had been mingling all night as Sansa had asked him too. Listening to a million old stories that were SURE to jog his memory… they hadn’t. He found himself alone for the first time that night and spied a relatively empty table in the corner of the room where he might find a moments peace. 

“King crow”, came a voice to his left and Jon sighed deeply before glancing up. But having spoken to nearly every lord and lady in the castle he was surprised to see what he thought must be a member of the free folk. He was dressed in white fur and had a wild look about him that reminded Jon of someone, he wasn’t sure who. 

“Heard you lost your memories, bad omen that is. They call me Shagar. Here!” He took Jon’s wine goblet and tossed it aside while handing him a horn of foul smelling liquor. Jon wrinkled his nose but took a drink none-the-less and howled as it burned the entirety of his throat. “These southern feasts are too tame. I can take you to the free folk camp, just outside the gates, remind you what a real celebration is.” Jon was about to reply but stopped short when he noticed Shagar’s face had grown rather serious. 

“Shagar.”Tormund boomed low.

“Tormund”, Shagar said, rising slowly to his feet. “I didn’t mean nothing. Just thought id try and help the crow remember.”

“Really?”, Tormund said, even lower this time. His eyes fixed on the wildling, unmoving. There was a hint of something in Tormund’s voice Jon couldn’t quite place, but it sent a tingle down his spine. 

Shagar closed his mouth and slinked away slowly as Tormund slid into the spot front of Jon, stealing the horn away and taking a large gulp before shoving it back into his hands.

“That’s good, we’ll need more of that”, Tormund said, waving at a few other free folk that had gathered quietly near the table to watch the little scene. Another horn and 3 or 4 more flagons were brought over and Tormund refilled Jon’s glass.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s a celebration crow, your celebration. At celebrations, we drink!”

“No, I mean…” Jon trailed off a bit as the free folk all piled into his table and began shouting and laughing and clinking their horns together. “I mean, I told you this had to stop”.

“We are here to honor your return, and to enjoy the free food and drink. Nothing more” Tormund smiled and waved his hands around at nothing in particular.

Jon eyed him suspiciously, but Tormund just turned to his fellow free folk and began toasting and carrying on with the rest of them. Jon heard more stories, but these, these were different. Stories of ice bears and mammoths and the giants who rode them. How Tormund had gotten his name and …. Before he knew it Jon had drained his glass and was reaching for a second, or was it his third. He started to notice how his muscles had ached from the tension he had been holding. Now he felt loose, almost comfortable, something he hadn’t felt since he had awoken in this foreign place. 

Some of the free folk had brought instruments and they began to play a lively tune in a language Jon didn’t recognize. Several of the free folk and even some of the northerners at neighboring tables had gotten up to dance. Without warning Jon felt himself being pulled into an open spot amongst the other dancers. For a minute he felt embarrassed, as his eyes roamed over his sister and some of her more esteemed guests gawking from the far corners of the room. But as more and more laughing and smiling faces circled around him he found himself smiling too and happily moving along to the music. 

Strong arms wrapped around his middle briefly and spun him quickly around. “Having fun crow?” Tormund was not holding him per say, but slid his hands across jons shoulders and back and hips all the while maintaining a rhythm like nothing was out of order. “Why are you doing this? Jon yelled over the music as Tormund spun him around once more and continued moving around him in circles as the music played on. “Because I am an incredible dancer and it would be a shame to not share it with this world”. Jon smirked at that and Tormund laughed and grabbed him as one of the songs slowly faded, sliding him back into the now empty table. 

Tormund leaned in, whispering for only Jon to hear. “The night after the battle with that Bolton cunt, was the first time we every danced. It was your first free folk celebration and of course you had no idea how to have a good time so I stepped in...”

Jons smile faded slightly, “You are trying to stir up memories, this isn’t a good idea…”

Tormund continued undeterred, “I stepped in, sexy as all hell and saved you from that dark lonely head of yours.” He entangled his fingers with Jons, unable to help himself. “Of course, you were still sad and angry about the events of the day but there was this moment… this one moment when everyone else fell away and it was just the two of us.” He was looking at Jon so intently now, those blue eyes burrowing holes into his armor.

“Look, you can’t do this. Jon said, as he pulled away. “You can’t just come unannounced and…”

“Unannounced? Tormund interrupted. What are talking about? I literally fought through the end of the world to be with you. You are mine, as I am yours.”

Jon sighed and tried to step away further. “I know, look” He shook his head, closing his eyes against these foreign feelings stacking up in front of him. “Do you want me to feel guilty? Because trust me Tormund, I do. Ok? I feel horrible, and lost, and I’m sorry but I don’t know what to tell you, what do you want me to say, I don’t remember us!”

“I do remember us and no matter how much I miss you or how much pain I am in I would never let go of everything we had.” Tormund grabbed his shoulders and leaned in. “Even if I was drowning in grief. Id rather hang on to every moment I ever held you or every laugh I ever heard. Every shred of happiness we ever had. I would rather spend every moment in agony than let go of you.” 

Jon’s mouth opened but those blue eyes struck him speechless. “I need some air”, Jon managed to stammer out as he pushed back from the table and left the room, Ghost hot on his heels. 

He didn’t even look to see where Sansa or Bran were as he made for the exit. In the hallway he stopped and leaned heavy into the corridor wall. He felt so overwhelmed, he had no idea what to do with the unexpected emotions that had come pouring out of Tormund. 

He called for a bath as he made his way to his own chamber and only a few minutes after he had arrived steam swirled from the tub in the center of his room inviting him in. He peeled off his grey tunic and breeches and slid into the bath with a deep sign. He vaguely sensed the wolf nearby, curling up on the bed as he laid his head back against the iron tub and closed his eyes against the trying day.

Lightning flashed across the darkening sky as he slinked through the godswood. Familiar scents filled his nose as he made his way through the forest he hadn’t experienced since he was a pup. He stopped at the treeline and felt his fur bristle at the sight. A man, his man, was there amongst the clearing. He was not alone, being held tightly against a tree as the storm raged on. But as quickly as the fear and anger had arisen, it was gone again. He was safe, he was happy in the grip of this wildling man. Thunder boomed overhead and lighting crashed all around but there was peace in his heart. Warm and bubbling, it spilled over the depths of his heart as he laid down under the nearest tree to guard against intruders and revel in the happiness that his man felt, that he felt.


	4. Holding On and Letting Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter reminds me of a beautiful song by Mary Lambert:  
> "Is it real, this thing? Is it real, oooh this thing?  
> I could make you happy, I could make you love me, I could disappear completely.  
> I could be your love song, I could be long gone. I could be a ghost in your ear drum.  
> When you sleep, will it be with me?" 
> 
> Chapter Snippet:
> 
> He's is not exactly sure how they made it back into the castle. Getting upstairs proved to be a challenge with Jon’s hands all over him. Finally they burst through the oaken door of Jon’s bed chamber sending ghost flying from the bed out into the hallway. They broke the kiss only to laugh for a moment and come back together again. Tormund peeled what was remaining of Jon’s undershirt off and inhaled sharply. The light from the nearby fire danced over Jon's hard frame and his eyes, darker now, roamed hungrily over Tormund's body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are on my emotional roller coaster now, please hang on. This chapter attempts to finally earn that explicit warning. My first smut was sooo much fun to write, please be kind! Beautiful artwork by the amazing louhetar! Her works were some of the first to pull me into this amazing ship. Support art, commission her and other artists... they will help bring your fics to life <3

Chapter 4: Holding On and Letting Go 

Tormunds mind raced as he watched Jon walk away. Maybe he pushed too hard, too fast. He stood from the table and made to follow him from the party but was interrupted by an unexpected voice from behind him. He turned quickly to glimpse Bran in his wheelchair.

“Please, sit.” Bran waved back to the table that was still mostly empty and after hesitating a moment, Tormund slid back down intrigued.

“That didn’t seem to work out too well”, Bran said with no obvious judgement in his voice.

“I didn’t think it would be easy” Tormund said, slightly annoyed. No, he doesn’t particularly know what he is doing, but he’ll keep at it until Jon comes back to him. Preferably without the commentary.

“You want him to remember so he’ll?” Bran questioned, Tormund interrupted. 

“Look, I’ve spoken to Sansa, I know what you all want for him. But you don’t understand what he needs. He has done more than enough for this family, for these people”, he gestured around non-specifically. “He should be free to follow his heart”.

“And his heart will lead him to…” Bran paused this time on his own, waiting.

Tormund opened his mouth but closed it again. He would not be baited further.

Bran kept going after his silence. “I’ve seen an amazing future for Jon. In this future he is surrounded by family, loved by many”.

“I can give him that”, Tormund interrupted with a groan, slightly annoyed that he jumped back in so quickly.

“Can you?” Bran said with a tilt of his head. There was very little emotion there, but Tormund had enough bubbling up for the both of them.

“I would do anything for him, give him everything he needed!”

Bran paused for an uncomfortable amount of time. His face gave nothing away, but Tormund felt as if he was being weighed and measured. “You would do anything for him, yes. But you cant give him everything can you Tormund?” As he spoke the words Bran gazed slightly past him, making Tormund turn slightly to see Brans new target. A young woman stood with Sansa, giggling and smiling like someone must have told a joke or two. Bran kept speaking as Tormund took her in. “Sansa has many plans for Jon. Plans that will be good for him.” The girl looked important enough with her fancy gown and the 2 or 3 men guarding her nearby, but… . Heavy recognition landed on Tormund. The weight of it took his breath away for a moment. 

“You, you must be joking…” he huffed, turning to stare Bran down, his face remaining stoic as his heart plummeted to the floor.

“I remember you and Jon, the way you looked at each other. I saw fire and passion, and I saw struggle and pain. You do nothing halfway Tormund. You are either the best thing for him, or the worst. Brans eyes still hadn’t moved from the pretty girl in the corner of the room. “She. I am told she is a sweet girl. Her love will be pure and easy. It will always be good for him. He has done so much, you are right. Perhaps its time to smooth his path for him? He has family here, love, respect, comfort. Perhaps it’s time to let it end. 

Tormund was barely listening now, the weight on his chest was caving him in, his own blood thrumming in his ears. Something flashed in Tormunds mind. A long-ago memory. He gritted his teeth in agony as blood and sweat poured from his body. “Tormund, its over…” The crow edged toward him, eyes cold, voice hard as steel. “Let it end”. Tormund remembered how he had rebelled against the words then. Fighting and clawing the men who held him and yelling till his voice was horse and his muscles screamed in agony. But there was no fight left in him now. Let it end. 

Brans face remained unchanged and when Tormund turned to give the girl a final look he locked eyes with Sansa and suddenly had to leave. He had to get out of that room. He stood, pushing the bench he was on backward with such force that the entire room turned to look at him. He snatched a flagon from a nearby servant and stormed out of the hall.

He drained the flagon as he walked and grabbed a second off the shelf as he reached his room. Everything and nothing was flying through his head as he grabbed up all his belongings and started stuffing them into his leather bag. He had to go, he had to get out before he did something he would regret. A knock at the door and Tormund growled. He stormed over and flung the door open nearly knocking it off its hinges.

Jon.

The angry words died on his lips. Jon was clothed in breeches that were only half laced and an undershirt that lay haphazardly on his shoulders. His feet were bare and Tormund realized he must have just rolled out of bed. Jon’s eyes grew wide as he took in Tormund’s gruff demeanor. 

“I… I had a dream.” Jon blurted, and only then did Tormund notice he was slightly out of breath. Did he run here from his room?

“What? What dream?” Tormund still wasn’t processing. Nothing was really making sense. His mind flew back to the pretty girl in the corner and he felt darkness fill him up again. Jon was still staring, a look of confusion on his face.

“I’m sorry for barging in, if you were sleeping or...” He trailed off as he examined Tormund’s furs strewn about the room and his half full bags on the bed. “I had a dream. I was with ghost, or… I was ghost. It was so real, I could smell the storm as it rolled in. I saw…” He paused again and Tormund noted a little color flood his cheeks.

Tormund felt the room spin a bit and had to close his eyes. That last flagon had caught up with him and he was having a hard time focusing. 

“I saw us, in the godswood.” I saw, only bits and pieces really. It started to rain…” he said and Tormund interrupted him. 

“You know, secretly I was thrilled when you gave up your crown because suddenly there was this possibility I could have you in my life forever. But, I was also devastated because I realized you lost the life you’ve wanted since you were a little kid. You don’t remember of course. But you told me how much you had wished to be trueborn when you were young. To be Lord of Winterfell with a family who loved you. 

Jon looked determined, “It was a dream, but it wasn’t. It was so real. Tell me…”

Tormund shook his head again but keptgoing, “With the dragon queen gone and the North saved you can have part of that life back. You can be warm and safe and happy behind these walls. Make little lordlings of your own.”

Jon stepped forward a little, brows furrowed as if he was deep in thought. Desperate to remember something just out of his reach. He opened his mouth, but Tormund cut him off once more.

“Sure, maybe you would be happy if we gave it another chance.” Tormund continued, breaking eye contact with Jon and moving to sit on the bed before he lost his balance. “But the truth is, you are better off without me.

Part of him couldn’t believe what he was saying, but despite the fogginess in his head, Bran’s words kept needling at his heart. Let it end. “You need to live your life. You deserve to be happy. I love you Jon. Enough to let you go.” 

Jon moved closer still, and when Tormund locked eyes with him again he spoke, “It wasn’t a dream was it? It started to rain…. And then what happened Tormund?”

Tormund let out a long sigh. He was exhausted, for a moment, he wasn’t sure he could form the necessary words. His mind drifted back to that pretty girl in the hall and he gritted through it. “It started to rain. It got cold… wet and muddy. He said, looking away from Jon’s face again. “You were miserable, so we went inside, said goodnight.” 

Jon said nothing but Tormund could see he was still confused as he contemplated his words. Jon made a move toward him and Tormund stood.

“Goodnight Jon” Tormund said, moving toward the door.

“Right, ok. Goodnight Tormund” Jon said, and when he backed out Tormund shut the door slowly and leaned his head against it. The room was really spinning now. He felt like throwing up, but it wasn’t just the booze. He needed some air.

When Tormund entered the hallway again Jon was gone. He made his way down the staircase, swaying a bit, and nearly knocked over a guard standing at the gate of the godswood. He walked for short while until he reached a familiar clearing and an old weirwood tree. Tormund leaned his head against that tree and let the memory wash over him one last time.

The skies opened up and the rain engulfed them as they clung to one another.

They leaned into each other, foreheads pressed together gently as the water rushed over them. Tormund cupped his jaw tenderly, brushing the dark curls from Jon’s face 

“Promise me crow. You’ll go to Kings landing, and fulfill that damned pledge. Then you’ll be free and…” He pulled Jon in close, eyes pleading. “Promise me you’ll come back to me.”

Jon held his gaze for a long moment and then smiled.

“I promise.”

Tormund crashed their lips together again letting go of Jon’s face only to wrap his arms around his thighs and lift him easily from the ground. Jon wrapped his legs tightly around Tormund’s middle making him groan into Jon’s mouth. The bigger man moved forward slowly until Jon’s back found the tree he had been resting against earlier on. Tormund anchored him there easily and began to kiss up and down the crows beautiful neck eliciting a few moans from Jon as well. Thunder roared above them but Tormund barely registered the sound. The rain was coming fast now and their panting breaths mingled in the cool night air. Tormund fumbled with the leather jerkin but finally managed to shirk it off and get his hands on his crows amazing body. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself and slid Jon back down to the ground, leaning back just a few inches to admire him fully. He was so beautiful, feral. Lighting flashed and Tormund glimpsed eyes darkening, barely any grey left. Jon’s wet small clothes clung to him and the red head could see every beautiful sharp angle of his stomach. His eyes drifted back up and Jon gave him a smug little smirk that shot more lightening straight to Tormunds cock. He grabbed him up again and Jon fisted his hair and pulled him in for one more ravenous kiss before groaning “Inside” into Tormund’s ear.

He's is not exactly sure how they made it back into the castle. Getting upstairs proved to be a challenge with Jon’s hands all over him. Finally they burst through the oaken door of Jon’s bed chamber sending ghost flying from the bed out into the hallway. They broke the kiss only to laugh for a moment and come back together again. Tormund peeled what was remaining of Jon’s undershirt off and inhaled sharply. The light from the nearby fire danced over Jon's hard frame and his eyes, darker now, roamed hungrily over Tormunds body.

Fuck, how he had waited for this moment. Dreamt about it a million times over. Tormund was actually startled back to the present when he heard the crow growl “off” and tilt his head toward Tormund’s shirt. Tormund tried to slide the rain-soaked garment from his chest but he suddenly couldn’t focus. The simple task of undressing seemed quite impossible now. In front of him, Jon's hands were at his own waist, slowly unlacing his breaches. Painfully slow, as he walked backwards toward his large bed, eyes trained on the red head. After some effort, the bigger man finally freed himself from his upper layer and rushed forward, pressing his beautiful crow back the rest of the way on the bed and settling over his body. Jon’s legs wrapped around his hips once more and Tormund could feel how hard they both had become. He willed himself to slow down, savor every moment. He took his time dragging his mouth across Jon’s body. Stopping to kiss every scar and silently thanking whatever gods brought this man back to him. He would say that prayer the rest of his life. Jon arched his back as Tormund covered his body in love bites, squeezing his legs and groaning when he found a bit of needed friction.

Tormund leaned back a little and buried his hands into the undone laces of Jon’s breeches and waited, asking.

Jon nodded and kissed him once more before Tormund set to inching his pants down as he moved lower. Once freed, Tormund was overwhelmed with the need to taste him. He pulled the smaller man in tightly by the hips and licked a long strip up his cock and was rewarded by an almost filthy moan. A shot of fear coursed through him as he realized he would do anything in this world to coax that look from his crow’s face. But that feeling was gone the instant Jon found his eyes again. They were beautiful, blown wide and wanting, filled with all the love and hunger that was washing over Tormund now. 

Tormund lowered his mouth again slowly, torturously, and sucked hard, hollowing his cheeks around Jon’s cock. Incoherent curses spilled from Jons lips and Tormund smirked through it. Tormund could feel the snap in Jon’s hips that would have gaged him had he not been holding them so tightly.

Jon mumbled a few more warnings, fisting at Tormund’s hair, but he would not let up. Soon he felt Jon’s muscles flex beautifully under his hold and fill his throat with warmth. Jon pulled him up quickly, breathing heavy and chasing his own taste on Tormund’ tongue. 

“Lay back, I want to touch you” Jon breathed out. And though he ached inside his impossibly tight breeches, Tormund could not deny this man. He scooted up to the top of the bed and tucked his hands behind his head and tried to slow his breathing. He watched Jon glide his fingers down his chest slowly, lovingly. He followed the path of his fingers with his lips and tongue, learning and relearning every ridge of muscle, every scar. Jon stopped short when he reached Tormund’s breeches, glanced up and waited for the faintest of whispers to leave Tormund’s mouth. “Yes.”

Jon pulled Tormund free and began playing with his length, slowly gliding his tongue over the tip. Tormunds head snapped back and his hands wove into his crow’s wild curls, still damp from the rain. 

They had gone here a time or two before when Jon had let go of inhibitions and allowed that want to consume him. He was new at this, and Tormund was good with taking things slow. Pleasuring each other with their mouths, and holding each other till morning was all Tormund needed. But the way Jon was looking at him now, this was different.

Jon let go of his hard length and Tormund groaned at the loss. He slid back up to Tormunds chest, his intense gaze never faltering.

“I want you inside me” Jon breathed out. And Tormunds breath caught in his throat.

He slid his large hand across Jon’s cheek and Jon melted into the touch.

“Are you sure?” Tormund stuttered out. “We are ok, I am ok waiting”.

Jon smiled softly, there was no uncertainty in his eyes.

They stared at each other for a beat, neither one moving a muscle, until Jon’s expression darkened again. His tongue darted out and licked his own lips every so slightly and Tormund felt his own blood rush to his ears once more. 

Tormund grabbed the smaller man around the middle and flipped him onto his stomach easily. Jon gasped at the action and Tormund saw another flash of desire in his eyes before he began to kiss down to the base of Jon’s spine. Large hands kneaded Jon’s perfect arse and he heard him swallow a groan when he dragged his hot mouth over Jon’s hole. Jon buried his face in the bed furs as Tormund slipped his tongue inside. Jon’s back arched beautifully and Tormund had to grab his own cock at the base to keep from spilling at the site. 

Tormund kissed back up his spine and set to unlocking his crow’s body with his fingers, stretching him out slow and gentle. Jon continued to press his face into the furs until Tormunds fingers brushed over that spot and Jon cried out so loud the wildling was certain the entire castle had heard him. He began stretching him again until Jon’s back arched once more.

“Enough”, Jon breathed out. “I need you now”.

“I don’t want to hurt you” Tormund answered.

Jon growled low in his throat and flashed Tormund a look that was half wrecked and half warning. Tormund smirked into his back and memories flooded his head. The lord commander stepping close, eyes hard, mouth sneering. Jon knocking the Bolton cunt to the ground, laying into him with a fury Tor had never seen. Jon tearing through hundreds of whites to reach him on the battlements. His crow was so strong, so powerful, and yet he lay here freely between Tormund’s legs, trembling and begging for his touch. He was the luckiest man who ever lived. 

Tormund leaned back on his knees and lined himself up, sinking slowly into Jon’s heat. He continued to move forward, only stopping when he felt his body flush with Jon’s back again. The sensation alone nearly did him in and it took every bit of restraint he had to not move, to give Jon time to adjust to his size. 

“Fuck Jon, you are so perfect” Tormund breathed as he pressed a kiss to Jon’s back once more. Tormund reached out, gripping Jon’s hands as he clutched at the furs on the bed. After a moment or two Jon gripped back determined, and Tormund let go of a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Move”, Jon whispered low, and Tormund obliged, pulling almost entirely out and driving back again. Tormund snapped his hips at a steady rhythm until Jon unexpectedly pushed back into Tormund’s chest until they were both upright on their knees. The new angle sent shots of pleasure down Tormunds spine and he wrapped one arm possessively across Jon’s chest holding his back flush against him as he moved. He reached in front and found Jon hard and dripping once more. Tormund began to jerk him off at the same pace of his snapping hips and he could feel Jon push forward and back again, unsure which sensation to chase. Jon turned his head, cradling it against the larger man’s shoulder and moved to mouth Tormund’s name, but only soft moans fell from his lips. Jon’s whole body tensed and his eyes slipped closed and Tormund pulled him in a bit tighter.

“Look at me”, Tormund rumbled, a hint of command in his voice, and Jon’s eyes shot open and found his again as he came hot and wet over Tormund’s hand. 

The look on Jon’s face sent Tormund hurtling over the edge with him and both men rode out the last remaining waves together before collapsing back on the bed.

Tormund pulled Jon’s body in again, tucking him close against his chest unwilling to part.

“Gods, I love you” Tormund whispered into Jon’s ear as planted gentle kisses to the back of Jon’s head.

“I love you…”

Tormund was suddenly cold. He opened his eyes again to find red eyes staring back at him. He was back in the godswood, Ghost only inches from his face. 

“I cant do this.” He said with a deep sigh and tears forming in his eyes. He ran his fingers through the warm white fur. “I have to go”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please consider leaving a comment... they truly keep us going <3


	5. My way back to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He watched the sweat slide down his brow and across his bare chest as he worked the animal onto the spit. He hadn’t even realized he was staring until he heard Tormund clear his throat. He looked up and found the big man staring back at him, smug smirk lining his face. 
> 
> “You just gonna stare at me all night crow or are you gonna help with this?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 already?? I just cant stop myself! This chapter may not be... satisfying so to speak. But I've already started Chapter 6 and it is SOFT so hold tight. I should be posting again soon. Thank you for reading!

Chapter 5: My way back to you

Jon tossed and turned most of the night. Images of himself and Tormund in the rain. He played the bits and pieces he had dreamed over and over in his head but couldn’t manage to see past them. It was maddening. Tormund had said that nothing had happened that night, but Jon couldn’t help but see the pain in the man’s eyes.

He finally gave up on sleep and got himself dressed before sunrise. He walked the battlements for an hour or so, breathing in the fresh cool morning air to try and clear his senses. He heard the faintest of sounds coming from the South end of the castle and was surprised to find anyone awake at this hour. As he got closer he realized the sounds were coming from Sansa’s chambers, and it seemed as if she was arguing with someone.

“It’s not right, he doesn’t know what he’s signing up for!”

“This is his duty, we all have an obligation to the North.”

“You can’t make his decisions for him, he doesn’t understand what he is giving up.”

Jon leaned in, a second away from knocking, when the door flung open. Arya emerged breathing hard. But when she saw Jon, she regained her composure quickly. 

“What’s going on?” Jon demanded, looking back and forth between the women.

“It’s nothing, family squabbles” said Sansa, looking a little desperate, her face trained on the back of Arya’s head.

Jon paused for a long while, scanning each of their faces in silence.

“It’s very early Jon, do you need something?”

“I want to talk to you about Tormund…” Jon said, before he was interrupted.

“Tormund is gone.” Arya spat out. She glanced at her sister, then to Jon, as if she were contemplating saying more. Then she turned on the spot and left them. 

Jon watched her leave then started down the opposite hallway, glancing back at his oldest sister only to find her staring back with a deep look of concern on her face.

Moments later he found himself in front of Tormund’s door once more. He knocked heavy and waited, but there was no answer. 

“Tormund?” Jon whispered, opening the door slowly to find nothing but an empty room. The fire in the corner was cold, he had been gone for some time.

The emptiness of the room stirred something in him. The loneliness he had been keeping at bay since he had awoken with no memory crept in, and all the warmth left his body. Without thinking he bolted down the stairs and out into the cool morning air once more. He roused the stable boy and bid him help get their fastest horse ready. Jon mounted up and steered the horse toward the wildling encampment a few miles north of the castle. 

When he arrived, some of the free folk were already busying themselves with building fires and making breakfast. Jon spotted an elderly woman who sat on the edge of camp stirring a large pot by a crackling fire. 

Jon rode up to her, “My name is…“

“I know you son.” said the old woman fondly. “And you know me, though you do not see. My name is Yrsa”

“Yrsa,” Jon tilted his head respectfully, “I am looking for Tormund”

The old woman smiled softly and lowered her head. “He searches for you as well” 

Jon crinkled his brow looking around, “Is he here?”

“He rides North”

“North?” Jon muttered confused, “Why would he ride North if he is looking for me”

The old woman smiled fondly again. She gestured toward the Northern road and then returned to her cooking in silence. Jon took her in for a few more moments and then turned to gaze in the direction she had indicated. What was he doing here? Even if he could catch up with Tormund, what exactly was he looking for?

He had no idea why, but he had to speak to Tormund again. He could not let him leave. He kicked his heels into this mount and started down the Northern road before he could talk himself out of it. 

A few miles from the castle Jon felt a sudden flash of unease, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. A strange whooshing sound came from his left and out of nowhere Jon felt his horse buckle underneath him. He instinctively slid his boots from the stirrups and vaulted out of the saddle at the last moment, hitting the path in front of him hard and rolling several feet. He lay there in the middle of the path stunned for a few moments, unsure of what had happened. He tried to sit up slowly, shaking the cobwebs from his head and flexing his muscles to feel for any injuries. Suddenly he felt himself being lifted from the ground roughly, arms pulled behind him, knife at his throat.

Jon was still reeling from his fall, taking several moments to focus fully on who was around him. When he regained his composure, he knew immediately he was in trouble. There were 3 of them, though it was easy to see that the man in front of him was the real threat. He was dressed in northern garb, but he was clearly southern, with a faded blue beard and a golden front tooth. He wore a smug grin on his face as he twirled an ornate golden dagger in his hands.

“It wasn’t going to be easy getting into that castle,” the bearded man said shaking his head. “I wasn’t sure how we were going to get to you and that turncloak family of yours. Thankfully ….”

“Who are you, what is this?” Jon interrupted, wincing as the man holding him twisted his shoulders further behind him. 

“You.” The bearded man stepped forward, leaning in close to Jon. “You promised to protect her. You promised to help her win back her birthright”. Contempt poured out of him, but his eyes remained trained on the dagger he twirled over and over in his hand.

“Protect who? What are you talking about?” Jon demanded. 

“She was the most beautiful woman in the world.” He paused for a long while, eyes distant, a ghost of a smile on his lips as if he were reliving a cherished memory. Finally, he lifted his head, and though his eyes were rimmed in tears, Jon saw nothing but fury there. “She was everything to me, and you let her die”

Jon struggled against the weight on his shoulders, nearly breaking free from his captors hold, until the man in front of him punched him in his injured ribs sending all the air from his body.

“The mother of dragons. The love of my life. Your own flesh and blood.”

Jon suddenly understood. He did not know this man, but he knew of the dragon queen. As he gasped for air he replayed what his family had explained in the weeks after he had woken up. He had gone south with this dragon queen to help end southern tyranny and …

“I don’t remember her” Jon blurted, nearly sick from the pain emanating from his injured ribs. He own blood grew cold when he watched the man in front of him turn dark.

“I was injured in the fighting”, he continued. “But they tell me she went mad. They tell me she burned the entire city to the ground. Innocent women and children.”

A baleful laugh escaped the man’s lips. “There was no innocence left in that city. And you will pay for what you did to her.” He closed in on Jon grabbing a handful of black hair and sneering as he continued his threats. “When I am done with you, I’ll find your family and take them apart piece by piece. Your friends, your people, every single traitor in this godforsaken land!” He stepped back, arms spread wide to prove his point. “They will all know the grief and betrayal that she felt before she died!” He gave a nod to his accomplice and Jon drew in a sharp breath, steeling himself for what followed. 

He felt the man behind him lurch forward, felt pain as the blade scraped across neck. But suddenly his arms were free and without hesitation he lunged forward, dragging the hidden dirk from his side and burying it deep into the bearded man’s throat. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the man to his right fall in a white blur, screaming for only a moment before ghost ripped savagely at his throat. Jon whirled on his feet to see the man who had been holding him fall slowly to his knees, then to the ground, axe lodged perfectly between his shoulder blades.

He looked around frantically and found Tormund several yards away, eyes wild, heaving heavy breaths as he walked quickly toward Jon. He stopped just short of Jon’s face and let out a slow ragged breath, and Jon could see he was trying to calm his own fury. The bigger man reached up and grasped Jon’s jaw, gently but firmly tilting his head to expose his neck. He slid his thumb over the small gash the blade had left, wiping the blood away. 

“Just a scratch” Jon whispered, pulling gently from Tormund’s grip. ‘I thought you had gone”

“I tried” Tormund sighed with a gentle shake of his head. “But it seems I don’t have the strength to leave you yet crow. 

“Making new friends I see?”, Tormund joked, looking around a bit until his eyes landed on Jon’s horse, dead after the fall, arrow protruding from its neck. He fixed his eyes back on Jon and smiled softly,   
“Need a ride?”

Without another word Tormund hopped back up in his saddle and held his arm out. Jon locked arms with him and was swung easily into the saddle behind him. Tormund spurred the horse with passion causing Jon to throw one arm around Tormund’s waist for balance. He felt Tormund rumble a laugh.

“Easy crow, plenty of time to thank me later”

Jon felt his face warm a bit as Tormund drove their horse back toward Winterfell’s gates.

“You saved my life, how can I repay you?”.

“You owe me nothing” Tormund said in earnest, gliding his hand over Jon’s at his waist as they rode, “You don’t remember crow, but we’ve saved each other more times than could be counted.”

Jon nodded and fell silent once more.

Then Tormund spoke so quietly Jon barely made out the words. “Stop at the Free folk encampment with me?”

Jon nodded again and Tormund spurred the horse once more, smiling wide.

“Jon! Jon! Jon!” little voices rang out all at once as several little children came running from different corners of the camp.

Tormund stepped in front of Jon and threw his large hands up in the air. “Ok! Ok, little ones, calm yourselves.” 

“You’re back!” 

“This is so great!”

“Tell us about the battle?” “Did you storm the gates?” “Where’s the dragon…Papa said there was a dragon!”

Jon stood speechless as he looked over all the little excited faces.

But the children’s attentions were quickly pulled from him. “Ghost!!” the children screamed as the direwolf trailed in after Jon. They smiled and cooed at the beast as if he was a pup, running tiny hands through soft white fur while Ghost gave them each a sniff and a lick.

One small boy however, had stood unmoved in front of Jon.

“You promised, King crow.” He inched forward. “You promised when you returned that you’d teach us how to fight!”

A few others joined in the chorus, “Its true, its true, you did, you did!” Several of them broke off and started walloping each other with tiny sticks in a make-believe battles. 

Jon peered at Tormund who looked a bit overwhelmed himself.

Jon turned back when he heard ghost give a little whimper and found the tiniest girl in the group leaning into the giant wolf, arms wrapped tightly around his neck as she buried her face in his fur. Jon had to smirk when he saw the wolf’s slightly annoyed expression.

“I am certain I did.” Jon declared, finally finding his voice. “The free folk are strong warriors and I can see you lot fit the bill. We shall have a lesson soon.”

The children all cheered and when he caught the big man’s eyes again, he found a mix of surprise and fondness that warmed Jon’s cheeks once more.

Then Yrsa appeared, “Hush now children, it is not the time for battles. Now is the time for chores. Off you go.”

The children all groaned in unison but made their way slowly back to their huts, while Yrsa turned to the men. 

“If you two are done with your early morning adventures, there are meals to prepare and preparations to make”. She smiled at them both and turned back toward her own hut.

“Preparations?” Jon asked.

“Aye.” Tormund sighed in a sad but determined tone. “I told them late last night to start preparing for our return home.

“Home”, Jon echoed.

“Beyond the wall is where the free folk belong. With the Night King gone and the weather mild, it’s the best time for the rest of the encampment to make it back safely. I was headed there this morning to check on the rest of the tribe, make sure all was safe, remember who I..” Tormund trailed off when he found Jon watching him intently.

“But you didn’t make it?” Jon asked quietly.

“No, I.” Tormund paused again. “I’m a weak man”.

“You’re an incredible leader” Jon said without hesitation. “I have heard everything you have done for your people and they are lucky to have you”.

“I didn’t do it alone.” Tormund said

A few moments of silence and Tormund motioned toward the encampment. “Looks like there is work to do. We leave in a moon’s turn”

Jon nodded and Tormund began to turn toward the huts. “Need some help?” Jon asked quietly toward the big man’s back.

Tormund said nothing. He shot Jon a brief smile and a quick nod and they both made their way into camp together.

Jon worked hard all day long mending huts and preparing hides, sharpening axes and fletching arrows. By sunset his hands were cramping and his back ached, but there was no mistaking the deep satisfaction he felt from the work. He had only spent a single afternoon with these people, but he already held immense respect for them. They worked as a team, as a family. Everyone had a job from the very young to the very old and they depended on each other and nothing else. 

It was quite amazing to see Tormund among his people as well. Up until this point, Jon had only encountered him alone or in the rooms at Winterfell where he was always out of place. The red head was an impressive figure anywhere for sure, but here, amongst his people, he truly shined. He was silly and rambunctious with the children, tossing them into the air or chasing them around the huts as they giggled. He walked the elders to the main fire for dinner with such gentleness it pulled at Jon’s heartstrings to watch. But when Tormund heaved the large deer that was to be the tribe’s supper onto his back and carried it on his own to the fire Jon felt something else entirely. He watched as Tormund’s muscles flexed with the strain of the animal’s weight. Watched sweat slide down his brow and across his bare chest as he worked the animal onto the spit. He hadn’t even realized he was staring until he heard Tormund clear his throat. He looked up and found the big man staring back at him, smug smirk lining his face. 

“You just gonna stare at me all night crow or are you gonna help with this?”

“Right, sure,” Jon said, jumping up quickly and throwing himself into the work to hide his reddening cheeks. 

After supper Tormund had sat down close to Jon and they both sat quietly enjoying aching muscles, full bellies, and the peacefulness of the night. Jon shifted in his seat and winced a bit holding the side that the bearded man had punched.

Tormund’s hand was quick to follow, pressing gently against Jon’s injury with concern in his eyes.

“You ok crow? Here, let me look”.

“Its ok, really”

“Don’t be stubborn” Tormund said as he unlaced Jon’s shirt and examined him. 

Jon had been able to remove the bandages a week or so prior but the area was still incredibly tender and Sam had said that the broken ribs would take several more weeks to fully heal. The punch had knocked the air from him but he was pretty sure he hadn’t cracked anything further.

He watched as Tormund glided his giant hands softly across Jon’s injury, feeling for any breaks and watching Jon’s response as he moved. 

“Feels ok thankfully” Tormund said, but he didn’t remove his hands from Jon’s stomach. Instead he leaned in closer as if to get a better look at the injury. Jon was surprised when he pressed a soft kiss to his ribs but he didn’t pull away. Tormund looked up and Jon again saw conflict and pain in his eyes, and something else… hunger.

Tormund was staring at his lips now, leaning in again, and Jon felt a little flutter in his stomach. He felt is body tense up, but he didn’t want to move. He was frozen in place when Tormund’s lips found his and he closed his eyes to the warm feeling of it. It was chaste, just a peck really, but Jon had to say something.

“We can’t, it’s not right”.

“Oh it’s right, Tormund said, lifting his palm to brush gently across Jon’s cheek. “Its just not, right now”

They sat like that, inches from each other until Jon shook himself from the trance and stood up flexing his sore muscles. “It’s getting late, I should be getting back”

“You could stay,” Tormund replied softly. “You worked hard today. You are tired and its pretty late. We have a spare hut on the outskirts of the camp”.

“Thank you, but I should be going. I am sure the castle is wondering where I’ve been.”

Tormund nodded and rose to his feet as well.

“Thank you again, for today” Jon said holding out an arm.

“Tormund looked at him for a beat and them grasped him back, pulling the crow in slightly as he spoke.

“I told you, there is no need to thank me for that”

“Not just for that,” Jon said gesturing around with his free hand. “For all of this”.

Jon watched the redhead smile as he hoisted himself up on a newly borrowed horse. “I’ll make sure he gets back to you” Jon said, gesturing at the animal beneath him.

“You do that crow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment if you're still with me! Thanks to everyone following along <3


	6. We have history together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Shouldn’t you be going?”
> 
> Jon paused for a long while, then whispered, “No.”
> 
> “Good.” Tormund said, and with a smooth motion he slid himself into the smaller man’s space and captured his mouth with the softest of kisses. Everything in his head was screaming to back this man roughly into his tent and fuck him till morning. But Tormund had decided weeks ago that if he got this chance again, he would do everything in his power to remind Jon of what he was really missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pausing our regularly scheduled angst to bring you some much needed fluffy smut. Enjoy <3

Tormund didn’t sleep much. He hadn’t had more than a few hours a night in months. Ever since Jon went south and news of his injuries flew back on dark wings. Ever since he returned without any idea who Tormund was or what they were to each other. He was miles away from where he belonged, but holding Jon had felt like home, and that had been enough. That peace was stolen from him, and sleep along with it. 

He had finally passed out from exhaustion a few hours from daybreak when he was jolted awake by the sound of steel on steel. An uncommon sound amongst the free folk, as only a few of them carried proper steel. None of whom would be sparring at such an early hour. He launched to his feet, threw on his nearest skins and pulled his favorite axe from a piece of wood near the entrance way. He ran out into the early morning mist, eyes wide and heart racing. 

The site he came upon was so unexpected it stole his breath away. 

Jon danced in the greenish glow of the pre-dawn light. Dodging and countering every swing from the 3 children that surrounded him. Blunted steel swords, much smaller than any the free folk would have on hand, clanged off the ground or each other, never touching him. The other children bounced up and down on the sidelines trying to mimic his every move. Jon was focused, face calm and cool as the children whooped and hollered around him. But every now and then, when one of the children would swing close, or correct themselves without guidance, Jon would flash a genuine smile, and the ice that encased Tormund’s heart the last few months chipped a fraction. He watched from a distance for some time. So long in fact that the morning dew had crept up his bare feet soaking the bottom half of his breeches and sending chills up his spine. It was so warm during the day now, too warm for Tormund’s liking. He had traded in his furs for softer, thinner hides. But in the cool morning air, watching his crow dance, he could almost pretend he was home. His crow. Home. 

Jon had made good on his word, bringing Tormund’s horse back himself and giving the children lessons with castle forged sparring swords nearly every morning that week. After lessons Tormund would offer breakfast and Jon would politely accept. They would eat their meal slowly, spending just enough time between bites to force Yrsa to come by and scold them for laziness and rattle off a laundry list of chores they should be doing instead. Jon would help Tormund through each task, making small talk and joking with the other free folk. It became somewhat of a pastime for Tormund to quiz him. What did he remember, what was still missing? His skills and abilities were certainly intact. He swung long claw like he was born too it. Some facts that he likely learned when he was young were intact too. Jon would rattle off the names of plants and small animals that Tormund had never seen in the unyielding cold beyond the wall. It felt easy spending their days this way, almost normal, until evening would come and Jon would excuse himself and head home. His home. Then images of that pretty girl in the corner of Winterfell’s great hall would flash in Tormund’s head and he would be left wondering if spending his last days with Jon like this were just making things worse for himself. He would watch Jon ride back to his castle and then shut himself up in his tent the rest of the night, growling at anyone who happened by, and wondering if this was the last day Jon would show up in camp.

The first morning of the second week Tormund left his tent and found the camp yard quiet as a tomb. None of the children had seen Jon, he had not come. Tormund felt anxiety creep over him, but he couldn’t give in to it. They were leaving in 3 weeks’ time, and he needed to focus on finally taking his people back where they belonged. He couldn’t make Jon’s mind up for him and he couldn’t make him remember. He had to let this go. Didn’t he?

By midafternoon his mood had not improved, and Tormund decided he needed some space and took a walk down to a nearby lake. He was so lost in his thoughts that he startled violently when someone slid down next to him.

“For a big man you startle easy” Jon said with a small laugh and a pat to Tormund’s back.

“Gods crow, I didn’t hear you”, the redhead let out a huff or two but smiled inwardly when the smaller man settled in. “Didn’t see you this morning, thought you weren’t coming.”

“I got… sidetracked. Sansa wanted…”

“Oh really?” Tormund cut him off.

“There was someone she wanted me to meet.”

Tormund let out an intelligible grunt and Jon quirked an eyebrow at him but did not comment.  
“How’d that go?” Tormund heard himself asking, though he was certain he did not really want to know.

Jon paused for a few moments, then whispered, “She’s a pretty girl.”

Tormund made that sound again. Numerous responses popped into his head. Everything from ‘I’m happy for you’ to ‘FUCK’ swirled around his head but thankfully he was able to hold it all in. 

“Look Tor I…” Jon stopped when Tormund’s head jerked up at the nickname, desperately searching Jon’s eyes for a hint on where this conversation was going. “I told Sansa I needed some time”.

“Some time for what?” Tormund asked, the blood was starting to pound in his ears and he had to force himself to pay close attention to Jon’s every word.

“I’m at a crossroads here. As I see it, I could go live my life as the Lord of Winterfell the way I probably should. I’ll start a little family and be safe and warm and probably very happy. Or I could risk all that for this tiny glimmer of a feeling inside that I just can’t shake. 

Tormund bit his lip to keep from speaking, though his heart was starting to do cartwheels in his chest. 

“I’ve talked to many people, heard many stories. But knowing that there’s this whole piece of my life missing, its driving me crazy. OK? So, I have to at least try to get those memories back”

“Yeah ok sure!” Tormund blurted out a little too enthusiastically. “How do you suppose we do that?”

“Maybe if we rewind the memories backwards? Something might trigger something, and...” Jon trailed off, uncertainty in his voice.

“Yah, sure, tell me what you want me to do?”

“Tell me about the last time I told you I loved you.”

Tormund eyes grew big as saucers but he could tell his crow was being earnest so he gathered himself as quickly as he could. 

He started with the most recent memory the two had together. The intimate goodbye they had shared in Winterfell’s courtyard when Tormund reminded him of his promise to come back to him and sealed it with the most passionate kiss he could bring fourth. Jon had held him tight and whispered ‘I love you’ in his ear before climbing on that damned horse headed south. Next came those amazing few weeks following the long night where they held each and kissed and fucked and simply celebrated being alive. That stormy night when rain washed away any remaining fear and doubt and they gave themselves to each other completely. Finding one another alive and whole when the Night King fell. Sitting together after the War for Winterfell, hand on Jon’s shoulder as he cried for his lost baby brother. 

The stories came pouring out of him like water over a broken dam. He didn’t realize how badly he needed to talk to someone, anyone, about what he had lost these past few months. The incredible journey they had been on together. Strangers to enemies… friends to lovers. Tormund had replayed it in his mind countless nights to keep from going insane. Now his crow stood before him, alive and nearly healed, but not whole, and Tormund needed him to know. 

Jon listened. Tormund was certain he did not fully understand every detail, but he listened, and Tormund’s heart healed another fraction every time Jon gave him the smallest of smiles or the tiniest chuckle after a soft moment or a good joke. 

Tormund began recounting the story of their trip North to claim a white. Jon’s fall into icy water. Tormund’s screams. Finding him at Castle black’s gates, lips blue and barely breathing. He didn’t realize it, but Tormund had begun to tremble at the retelling. He felt a warm hand on the back of his neck and was startled to a stop. When he looked up Jon’s eyes were brimmed in tears as well.

Jon slid his arm around Tormund’s shoulders and they sat their quietly watching ripples on the lake as the sun sunk lower in the sky.

“I am sorry to have lost the memories” Jon whispered quietly. “They were only half mine”

Tormund cupped Jon’s jaw gently and pulled him in close, “We’ll make new ones”.

Jon leaned in and closed his eyes in acceptance, so Tormund pressed a kissed to the smaller man’s full lips. His heart gave another flutter when he felt Jon push back against it and run his hands gently across the back of his neck. Tormund pressed his luck, taking Jon’s bottom lip into his mouth and running his tongue over it. To his surprise, Jon opened in response and their kisses grew deeper, hungrier. 

A loud splash of water nearby interrupted the moment. Tormund pulled away and frantically surveyed the scene around them for danger. 

“It’s hot as all hell and you two are making it worse” yelled Ivar, a younger member of the clan that Tormund often relied upon for hunting.

Tormund huffed again and looked back at Jon, half expecting him to be embarrassed. But Jon sat stoically, smiling a bit to himself and watching as several members of the clan stripped to their under clothes and jumped in after Ivar. 

“What do you say crow, do birds swim?” Tormund asked, grabbing at Jon before he knew what was happening.

“What? Hey, no… no!”, Jon yelped as Tormund lifted him easily from the ground.

Jon struggled, though Tormund knew he wasn’t putting his full weight into it.

‘You won’t melt crow”, Tormund joked as he launched him into a deeper section of the lake.

Jon emerged gasping, visible goose bumps running up and down his arms.

Tormund laughed and laughed, though he was a bit stunned himself in truth. The day was incredibly hot, but the lake was spring-fed and remained unbelievably cold. Tormund pushed his damp hair out of his face and found grey eyes trained entirely on him. Wet curls plastered across Jon’s cheeks as his warm breath rolled out on the cool water sending a rush of warmth to Tormund’s core. 

Jon brushed wet curls from his eyes and grumbled something unintelligible as he peeled off his outer leathers and boots and tossed them back onto the shoreline. His underclothes clung to his tight frame and Tormund was momentarily transported back to a very particular night in the pouring rain. 

Jon had snuck up during his daydream and swept his legs out from under him in one solid, unexpected motion causing the bigger man to topple face first into the water himself. The rest of the clan cheered as he flew back to his feet gasping out a few choice words in the old tongue. 

When he wiped the water from his eyes he found Jon belly laughing and his feigned attempt at anger failed him. They all laughed a few minutes more until he’d had enough and started wading through the water to where Jon floated nearby. He watched Jon’s face grow serious as he inched closer, and in his periphery, he saw the rest of his people note the change in mood and shift their gazes elsewhere. 

“Where’d you learn that move crow?”

“Big men fall just as quick as little ones when you…”

Jon stopped speaking as Tormund slid his undershirt from his frame in one fluid motion and ran his hands across his hard stomach. He pulled the smaller man in close and felt Jon shiver as he glided his fingertips across the small of his back. One hand remained while the other slid down that amazingly curved ass and squeezed, eliciting a deep hum from Jon’s lips. 

“I can think of a few more stories to try and jog that memory of yours crow”, Tormund whispered, only inches from Jon’s ear.

Jon hummed again, then closed the small gap between them, pressing a kiss to Tormunds neck that was so sweet it almost hurt when he drug his lips away. 

“Have I ever told you you talk too much?” Jon asked, though there was little sting in it.

“Once or twice” Tormund smirked.

“Tormund, Tormund!”, some of the children called from the shoreline, “Its almost time for the celebration!”

Tormund closed his eyes and sighed deep, slowly releasing Jon from his grip. He watched as Jon took a few extra deep breaths to gather himself as well.

“Celebration?” 

“Yes. A new member of the clan arrived a few days ago. It’s the first child to be born after the Long Night.”

“That is cause for celebration!”

“Well, in truth, the free folk celebrate often.” Tormund smiled, shaking his head a bit. After a few more moments Tormund whispered, grimacing a bit at the desperation in his own voice. “Stay?” 

“I’d love to”.

In true free folk style, the celebration was raucous and lasted well into the night. After a very short speech he had made in the old tongue welcoming the babe and a new beginning for their tribe, Tormund found a spot in the middle of the chaos, keeping one eye on his drinking horn and the other on Jon. The boy had unwound rather quickly, joking with those around him and sipping gingerly but consistently from his drinking horn. People were naturally drawn to him, and Tormund chuckled to himself how easily king crow could hold court and barely know is own name. As he watched, he picked up on something else as well. This was his crow certainly, but he had a lighter feeling about him this evening. Quicker to smile, much quicker to laugh. And Tormund thought sadly that this must be Jon not weighed down by the trials of grief and betrayal he had endured all his life. He wanted so desperately for him to remember, but he wasn’t blind to the blessing forgetting could be. And when he caught another soft smile and genuine laugh fall from his favorite lips, Tormund swallowed down a strange combination of giddy sadness. 

“You just gonna stare at me all night chief or…”

“Or.” Tormund interrupted rising quickly to his feet

The smirk on Jon’s face died a bit, noticeably knocked off guard by the unexpected response.

Tormund stood inches from Jon’s face now. “I’ve had enough for the night.”

‘Yah, me too” Jon agreed quickly but made no move to leave.

“Shouldn’t you be going?”

Jon paused for a long while, then whispered, “No.”

“Good.” Tormund said, and with a smooth motion he slid himself into the smaller man’s space and captured his mouth with the softest of kisses. Everything in his head was screaming to back this man roughly into his tent and fuck him till morning. But Tormund had decided weeks ago that if he got this chance again, he would do everything in his power to remind Jon of what he was missing.

No one from the party said a word as the two stumbled slowly back to Tormund tent. It took considerably longer with his arms tight around Jon’s waste, nudging him backwards in the dark, breaking from soft kisses only to occasionally check the general direction they were moving in. 

When they finally reached the tent, Tormund pulled the flap open but Jon paused at the threshold. Tormund could feel the younger man’s hesitation, his pulse rocketing through the hand he had still pressed to his chest.

“Are you afraid of me boy?”

“Should I be?” Jon whispered, a mixture of playfulness and uncertainty washing over his face.

Tormund was used to Jon’s internal struggle and found himself grinning back briefly at the familiarity of it all. But then he let his face fall into all seriousness and tried to put what he was feeling into words, “You knew this once crow, but your trust is something I will gladly earn again. I’d no sooner harm you than myself. I gave my soul to you long ago.” 

With that Jon inched forward, throwing his arms around the taller man’s neck and pulling him down for another sweet kiss. Tormund backed him into tent, releasing his mouth only to motion to the direwolf he knew was lurking just past the shadows.

Tormund watched as Ghost took up position across the tent threshold just as the flap closed behind them.

Inside the tent was warm but the heat of the smaller man pressed so closely to him sent Tormund’s temperature soaring. He peeled off his own shirt and then Jon’s, seeking out the skin to skin contact he had been craving all night. He ran his fingertips over Jon’s chest and swallowed a soft moan that fell from his lips. He pulled his own mouth away briefly to fully admire the body now pliant in his hands, and his heart still ached at the beauty of him. The crow’s frame was lean, but Tormund knew the hidden strength that lay beneath the surface. He rolled one hand across his hard stomach, while the other reached to unfasten the tie at Jon’s head. Black curls fell, framing his sharp jawline. Tormund tried desperately to control his own breathing as he took in his lover’s parted, swollen lips and steel grey eyes darkening. He promised himself over and over that he would not come undone. Worship was his only aim tonight. He would give this man everything he had. Tonight, Jon would be his alter, his heart tree. 

He led Jon to a pile of soft furs on the floor and gently guided him down onto his back. Without breaking eye contact, Tormund began to strip off the rest of Jon’s clothes and boots. He felt that familiar heat building low in his stomach but left his own lower layers on to control himself.

He lowered himself down and pressed his lips to the base of Jon’s neck. The familiar scent of sweat and leather and burning embers filled his nostrils and he felt the man shiver as he set himself to kissing every inch of his warm skin. He tasted of snow and steel and warm ale and Tormund thought it may be possible to survive on Jon alone. 

When he made it down to Jon’s chest, he spent several minutes kissing and licking and teasing his nipples erect. As he moved, Jon ran his hands up and down his back, and the smooth comforting strokes brought on a familiar pattern of intimacy that set Tormund’s jaw to aching. He continued moving south, tracing the sharp edges of muscle on Jon’s stomach with his tongue. Jon’s eyes drifted closed at his touch but his cock stood erect, bobbing enthusiastically against his stomach. Tormund made a conscious effort to put his mouth everywhere but that beautiful, leaking cock. He wrapped his arms around Jon’s thighs and hauled him close. Jon released a shuddering breath as he kissed excruciatingly slow patterns down the inside of his calves and thighs.

He released Jon’s legs for a moment, reaching for a small container of oil he kept nearby. He placed a few drops on his hands and began massaging all the places his tongue had sampled earlier. Big hands moving in small circles across Jon’s inner thighs set the smaller man to humming, and Tormund could feel the rest of the tension he was holding slip away completely.

The smallest of pressure saw Jon carefully flipped to his stomach and Tormund, after adding a bit more oil to his hands, slid them slowly up his upper thighs and onto the most perfect ass that had every existed. He kneaded the plump flesh there and listened as Jon’s humming transformed into some appealing combination of groan and whine. As he massaged up his back, Tormund lowered his body down, putting a good fraction of his weight against Jon’s back and threading his arms through the smaller man’s shoulders. Locked together this way, Tormund pressed worshiping kisses to the back of Jon’s neck sending shivers through the body beneath him. He felt Jon’s chest expand and contract in a smooth, peaceful motion as he whispered sweet words into his ear.

“You must know crow, I’ll never let anything happen to you”, he breathed out and planted a few more kisses to Jon’s ears and neck. “You’re the most amazing thing I have ever seen, and I want you to be mine always”.

Jon opened his mouth but did not speak, and even from the side Tormund could see his eyes blown wide. Tormund rolled him again and slid down his stomach in a smooth, quick motion. With both hands gripping his crow’s hips, Tormund let Jon’s cock slip wetly into his mouth and tried to memorize the deep, shuddering moan that passed his lips. He slid one hand from his hips and found his balls, cupping them gently and putting pressure in a place that had Jon’s back arching off the furs. Tormund’s own body thrummed as he felt Jon’s hands tangle roughly in his hair. 

He let that beautiful cock slip from his mouth and smirked as an unbidden whine escaped Jon’s throat. He allowed himself one moment to think about his own cock, hard as steel and trapped painfully in his own breeches. But tonight wasn’t about his own pleasure, what he truly needed was right here in front of him. He grabbed at Jon’s thighs, throwing his legs over his shoulders for a more ideal angle. He ran his tongue across Jon’s hole and heard his breath hiss out past his lips. A drop or two more of oil in his hands then he slid one finger into Jon’s heat and marveled at the way his head rolled back into the furs, whimpering and murmuring at the intrusion. His mouth found Jon’s cock again and he swallowed him down as he slid a second finger home. Jon cried out when his fingers pressed against that perfect spot, but Tormund could care less if the entirety of the camp had heard him. He licked and sucked, hallowing his cheeks out as he worked his crow to the very brink. He was thoroughly enjoying the sounds coming from the smaller man but when he looked up he hadn’t expected Jon’s bright eyes to be open and on him. Tormund was numb to anything else in the world. The look of want and need he found in Jon’s eyes sent something inside him blazing. Their eyes remained locked on one another as Jon’s slipped over the edge. His back arched beautifully once more, mumbling a string of curses and filling Tormund’s throat with warmth.

Tormund slid back up Jon’s body and pressed a few more kisses to his jawline as he slowly came down from his high. Then he wrapped his strong arms around Jon’s middle and pulled his back flush with his chest in a familiar motion. Jon melted into his embrace, bodies slotted perfectly together like puzzle pieces.

“What about you?” Jon sighed, and Tormund smiled at how wrecked his voice sounded.

“Don’t worry about me crow” Tormund whispered into his ear, “I’m home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment... it makes it all worthwhile!!


	7. My Body Knows This Place...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bonus chapter for JonmundSummer2020 Day 5: In canon
> 
> Jon & Tormund set off to the lake to catch fish for the camp. Not sad to say... they get a little distracted ;)

Jon woke to a stream of sunlight shining through a small crack in the tent door. His stomach rumbled and he realized it must be quite late in the morning. As he stretched his limbs he registered a solid weight against his back. Tormund. The red head had him pulled close, one arm slung over his middle in a possessive posture that sent tingles down his spine. He was snoring loudly and Jon wiggled free quietly in hopes of not waking him. Standing steady was harder than he imagined. His legs felt weak and a little shaky which would have been alarming if Jon hadn’t recalled the night he spent in experienced hands. He had awoken to Tormund’s mouth on his body at least 2 more times in the early morning hours and contentment covered him like a warm blanket.

He slid out of the tent to relieve himself and almost tripped over a small plate of bread and fruit. Yrsa, Jon thought as he surveyed the meal. Though she often gave Jon a hard time when she found him doing anything other than work, he didn’t miss how her eyes softened when she spotted him and Tormund talking softly together. 

Tormund. As Jon played back last nights events in his head, he felt a sudden wave of guilt wash over him. He had reached his peak for the third time that evening before Tormund had finally allowed him to return the favor. It hadn’t taken long at that point. A few gentle touches, feeling Tormund’s heavy length in his hand had sent the bigger man toppling over the edge. Afterward he had pulled Jon in close and whispered “I love you” in his ear. 

I love you. There were so many things Jon could not remember. But somehow, he knew that those words were not something he heard often. Tormund was so sure. But did Jon feel that way in return? All of Tormund’s stories about the time they shared together had warmed his heart, but you cant simply be told that you love someone. And you can’t possibly love somebody you’ve only known a few weeks, right?

Jon was lost in his thoughts.

“Finally came up for air brother?” Arya asked, smirking when he startled at her voice. 

‘Arya, what…”

“Even ghost got tired of waiting on you”. She gestured to a wolf size imprint on the ground outside Tormunds tent.

Jon cleared his throat. “What are you doing here?”

‘Oh I just came to deliver some news. Whispers from the south really…”

“What news?”

“Seems Tyrion has managed to overcome what was left of the dragon queens resistance. He is expected to declare himself King of the 7 kingdoms within the week.” 

This news did not entirely surprise Jon. He had heard about Tyrion from many, and knew him to be an intelligent and ambitious sort of man. Exactly how the north responded in the next week would mean everything. 

“The free folk head north soon?”

She asked it like a question, but he knew she meant it as a heavy sort of statement.

A loud grumble had them both turning to look as Tormund flew open the tent flap and stormed out bare chested and breathing hard. His eyes landed on Arya and he stalled in his tracks.

“I’ll leave you to it” she said, with another smirk and disappeared around the tent.

“What did I miss?” Tormund huffed

Back in the tent Jon tried to change the subject. “So what is the plan for today? What torture does Yrsa have instore for us this time?” he asked in a joking tone.

“We have fishing duty.”

“Fishing? Jon scoffed, “Well that doesn’t sound too terrible even on a ridiculously hot day such as this” He leaned over to grab up a few buckets from the corner of the tent.

When he turned again Tormund was leaning over him.

“No, it doesn’t” Tormund said, entirely too close to Jon’s face now

“And who will join us?” Jon murmured; eyes locked on Tormund’s lips

“Sadly crow,” Tormund stated, eyes trailing down to Jon’s mouth as well, “it looks like we are on our own for the afternoon”

Jon hummed at that, watching as Tormund turned to gather up spears and bows and buckets of his own.

They packed their gear and headed west toward one of the bigger lakes in the region. The sun was high over head now and humidity hung heavy in the air. Jon had slid on his lightest tunic and breeches but sweat still beaded on his forehead as they hiked. He had fallen a bit behind Tormund, and was admiring the bigger man from behind. While he was recuperating, Jon had read as many books on the Wildlings as he could find in the Winterfell library. Illustrations always showed them head to toe in furs and heavy animal skins. But with the Night King defeat, and this second, unnaturally hot summer heavy on their doorstep, the free folk had to make some changes. Tormund had traded his furs for lighter animal skins that had been worked and reworked until they were soft and pliable. He wore a sort of legging made from bark that had been pounded into soft fiber and woven to fit him perfectly. The lighter clothes did nothing to hide the red head’s chiseled body and as Jon’s eyes moved from his strong back to the curve of his muscled thighs he felt a different kind of heat pool in his belly. 

“This looks like the place”, Tormund said, breaking Jon from his covert inspection.

Tormund pointed to a makeshift raft leaning against a fallen tree. “Some of the men said they left it near good trout fishing. We are sure to find a fair few here”

Jon agreed, dropping his things near the shoreline. He gathered up a few decent size sticks and went to work fashioning his fishing line.

What are you doing? Tormund said, in a cynical tone. 

Fashioning a line for fishing” 

“You southerners are so strange, you won’t catch a fish with a stick and some string.

“Alright” Jon challenged, “how do the free folk do it?”

“I’ll show you” Tormund said with confidence as he gathered up his spear and motioned toward the waters edge. 

Tormund launched the small raft and stepped on quickly, reaching back to pull Jon on as well. They floated out a short distance, and Tormund motioned for Jon to crouch low and look over the edge for their prey. The lake was pristine, and Jon could clearly see the bottom even though it was several feet deep. They were motionless for a long while, neither of them making a sound. Finally, a large fish had made its way over and was circling the raft curiously. Jon peered up and found Tormund frozen like a statue. The arm holding the spear was raised high and unmoving, the other held out to balance himself. His chest moved up and down slowly as he breathed deep and quiet and the look on his face was pure determination. Jon might have gotten lost in those eyes had Tormund’s arm not flung down in that instant, spear propelling through the water like a hammer and lodging deep into the lake bottom. Sand swirled in the water and Jon could not see the target until Tormund pulled the spear up and hauled out the biggest northern Pike Jon had ever seen.

“That’s how its done little crow”, Tormund laughed, pulling the fish from the spearhead and launching it onto the shoreline. 

Jon huffed “Ok, that was pretty impressive. Not sure I could do it though”

“Of course you can”, Tormund snorted pulling Jon up from his crouched position and shoving the spear into his hands. “Give it a go”, he said, spinning Jon around and wrapping one strong arm around his waist for balance.

The feel of Tormunds arm around him sent chills racing down Jon’s spine and he let out a few deep breaths to calm himself. They waited like that for some time, locked together and focused as each grain of sand settled slowly to the lake bottom. Suddenly a fish appeared from their right and Jon tensed. 

Tormund squeezed him gently, chuckling quietly in his ear and whispering “Steady crow”.

Tormund’s free arm slid up Jon’s right hand, bringing his throwing arm into position above his head. He leaned his stomach into Jon’s back forcing him to shift his weight slightly and lean over the water a fraction more.

“When you’re ready” he whispered, and Jon had to close his eyes to remain in the moment. The fish swirled around them in the water a few moments more until Jon brought the spear down with as much force as he could muster. The spear pinned sharply into the lake bottom and Jon would have lost his balance and fell straight in had Tormund not pulled him back in at the exact moment. Jon turned to face him, Tormunds arm still wrapped tightly around his waist. Breathing deep, Jon watched as Tormund reached for the buried spear and hauled it out of the water. A fish wriggled at the end and Jon warmed instantly as Tormund laughed and looked back at him with a great deal of pride. 

Tormund flicked his wrist and launched the speared fish onto the shoreline with the first. Before he could fully turn back Jon threw his arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss him with enough force to nearly send them both backwards into the lake. Tormund widened his stance to steady them and wrapped his second arm around his waist, giving in to Jon’s passionate kisses with a sigh that told him he had been holding himself back for some time.

Adrenaline racing through him, Jon suddenly felt bold. He wrapped his hands into the laces of Tormund’s breeches and without taking his eyes off the taller man, sank slowly to his knees on the raft. He waited there for what seemed like minutes, until Tormund whispered his consent. 

“Fuck yes” 

Jon inched the fabric down past Tormunds thighs and grasped his incredibly large length with his left hand. His right hand inched possessively up the back of Tormund’s thigh squeezing and rubbing hard circles into his flesh. The raft swayed and Tormund shuttered as Jon slipped his cock deep into his mouth. The moan that escaped Tormund’s lips was filthy and Jon set his mind to forcing that sound from him again in the very near future.

He licked and sucked and hallowed his cheeks on Tormund’s cock, using both hands to grasp the remaining length he could not fit down his throat. Tormund’s hands tangled in his hair and when he tugged his head back gently Jon thought he might lose himself without even being touched.

Jon felt the bigger man begin to tremble in his hands. “No”, Tormund said as he pulled himself from Jon’s mouth. Jon looked up concerned, “mm’sorry” he said “are you not enjoying this… mm’sorry” he repeated, making to stand up again.

Tormund’s smile was a mixture of disbelief and sadness. He put on hand on Jon’s shoulder to hold him in place and sank to his knees to face him head on. 

Tormund lifted his chin, “How could you think this wasn’t the best day of my life?” he said, as he pulled Jon in for a series of passionate kisses.

“I’m not ready to spend myself like that is all crow, some of us aren’t young pups anymore”

He smiled again and sat back on the raft, pulling his boots and breeches free. He leaned forward and pulled Jons shirt over his head as Jon kicked his boots off and inched his pants down over his ankles. Tormund gathered the clothes all up and threw them onto the shoreline where he had sent the fish moments before. 

Tormund pushed Jon back gently until he was laying flat on his back across the raft. Jon’s skin was on fire, but it wasn’t just from the sun blazing overhead. Tormund slid his hands up and down his torso as more sweat beaded on his forehead. 

“Are you hot crow?” Tormund asked as he gathered some water in his hand and sprinkled it down Jon’s chest and stomach sending shivers cascading down to his toes. “Mm’sorry” Tormund said after a moment, hint of regret in his voice, “I have to see it”.

“See what?” Jon asked in a confused tone just before Tormund wrapped his body up, pressing it against his own and rolled them both off the raft into the lake”

Jon emerged sputtering, “7 hells! That’s one way to ruin the mood” he said, shivering as the cool lake water ran down his naked frame.

“Like I said, I’m sorry. But there is no finer site than wet curls covering your face and steam rolling off that amazing body of yours.” 

Jon felt warmth rush over his face as Tormund floated into his space, wrapping him up in his arms once more. 

“Did I really ruin the mood?” Tormund whispered the question into Jon’s ear with a knowing smirk on his face. 

Jon’s feigned huffing was interrupted with a deep and determined kiss, and he forgot all about the goosebumps that had riddled his arms and legs moments before.

As Tormund kissed him, Jon wrapped both legs around his middle and was rewarded with a deep groan and large hands sliding down his lower back, griping his ass tightly.

Jon brushed red hair from Tormund’s eyes, sliding both hands through his wild main as they devoured each other. 

Tormund reached down to handle both of their cocks in his right hand, jacking them both slowly in the space between their bodies. Jon’s senses were beginning to overwhelm him. Warm sun on his face, cool water engulfing them, Tormund’s thumb rubbing small circles across the tip of his cock… it was almost too much. 

“Tormund…” Jon begged. But what exactly was he begging for. “Tormund, please.”

“What do you need little crow?”

“You. I need you. Please.” He blurted out between kisses. He may have been embarrassed by the desperation in his own voice if Tormund hadn’t growled low in response.

Tormund released his grip on both their cocks and Jon whimpered at the loss. Tormund tutted at him softly, pulling his body closer as he walked them slowly out of the lake. He lay gentle kisses on Jon’s jaw and neck as he moved, bending slightly to grab a blanket that had been tucked in his pack. He walked a few meters more before locating that fallen tree in the shade of a nearby grove and sank to his knees with Jon’s legs still wrapped tightly around him.

His muscles flexed deliciously as he laid Jon on the ground. The combination of strength and gentleness with which he handled him gave Jon a fresh round of goosebumps. 

Tormund began to kiss down his chest, stopping to lick and suck his already hard nipples. Jon arched his back in response, hands flying to the top of Tormunds head, fingers lacing through wet hair.

Jon grew impatient, whimpering until Tormund asked again.

“What do you need little crow?”

“You know what I need.”

“Maybe I have… forgotten” Tormund said, eyes twinkling with mirth

Jon swatted him, “That’s low”

Tormund smirked, then slid both of his arms under Jon’s and rolled them until Jon found himself on top. “Looks like you’ll need to do the reminding this time”.

Jon flashed his best sneer, but he had a good idea how to play this out.

He planted his hands flat on Tormund’s stomach for balance and began rolling his hips slowly, tortuously slow. After finding those blue eyes, Jon made a point to close his deliberately, parting his mouth and biting his lower lip as he rocked back and forth. Tormund’s hands dug hard into his hips, and he snuck a peak through hooded lids and nearly let his face slip. Tormund’s eyes were large as saucers focused on Jon’s tongue as it darted in and out, and he looked like he suddenly deeply regretted his decision to let Jon be in charge. 

Jon lifted Tormund’s right hand from his hip and pulled two fingers into his mouth. He felt Tormund’s deep sigh as he licked and sucked, and the gentle lift of his hips in response to Jon’s continued gyrations.

When his fingers were good and wet, Jon pulled them from his mouth and guided them down to his entrance. When realization washed over him, he felt Tormund’s sharp intake of breath.

“Fuck Jon”

He didn’t have to remember anything to know this is what his body wanted. 

He pressed Tormunds fingers inside slowly opening his mouth wider as he buried them inch by inch. He leaned forward, putting more weight on Tormund’s chest as he adjusted for the best angle. 

He wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing of course, but the hunger in Tormund’s eyes emboldened him. His own erection was painfully hard and he had been leaking precum since those fingers had entered him. He pulled Tormunds fingers free and wrapped his own cock in his hands jerking slowly as he watched the red head lick his lips. He used his own wetness to moisten Tormunds huge cock and then lined him up his entrance once more. As he sunk down gradually on his shaft they moaned in unison. The sensation was nearly overwhelming. Everything fell away. All he could see and smell and taste and feel was Tormund. He thinks for one mad second that he could survive like this for eternity. Right here forever, with him. The thought is freeing, and a bit terrifying too. 

He hung frozen over Tormund for how long he didn’t know. Until he felt a strong hand on his jaw, pulling him down gently. Foreheads pressing together, Jon took his first breath in minutes. 

“Stay with me crow.” His voice was soft, almost fragile, as if it and his heart would break any minute. 

Tormund often teased him for getting lost in his own head. But there was much more to this plea. Jon couldn’t think about what it meant, how this would all go. All he could do was chase that sadness away, hang onto this freedom as long as he could.

“I’m here” he whispered back, kissing Tormund slow and deep. 

He lifted himself up, placing his hands back on his chest for balance as he began to move. Tormund’s head rolled back against the ground, hands digging into Jon’s hips as he rode him. He focused on flexing his inner muscles, squeezing until Tormund arched into him, releasing a string of curses in the old tongue. 

Tormund sat straight up, throwing an arm around Jon’s back for support, hips thrusting as Jon pressed back hard against him. His own erection now trapped between them, the new friction had Jon seeing stars. He gasped when he felt a hand wrap deep in his hair and tug, exposing his neck to warm puffs of air and searing kisses. 

“Tor, I’m…” words left him as warmth coiled low in his stomach

“Let go love, I have you”

As Tormund hugged him close to his body, Jon’s orgasm washed over him. His teeth found Tormund’s shoulder and he bit down as ripples of pleasure coursed down his spin. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tormund’s blue eyes screw shut, mouth falling open as he chanted Jon’s name. Warmth filled him as Tormund’s body trembled around him. 

They sat holding one another for some time, trying to catch their breath until Jon let out a soft chuckle.

“Yrsa is going to kill us! We only caught 2 fish”

“There’s no way those fish are gonna make it home” Tormund exclaimed. When Jon raised his eyebrows in confusion Tormund laughed and gathered him back up, spinning him so his back lay flat on the ground. He leaned down to kiss him, humming as he rolled his tongue over Jon’s bottom lip. “Fucking you makes me hungry and I don’t plan on leaving any time soon”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Leave a comment to keep us going <3


	8. The World Has Turned and Left Me Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tormund’s strong hands moved from his hips, sliding roughly up his back and deep into Jon’s curls. He laced his fingers in gently, but pulled Jon impossibly close. Foreheads touching, Tormund licked his lips and growled low.
> 
> “I love you”.
> 
> Jon’s heart stuttered He opened his mouth but no words came. He made to pull back slightly but Tormund held him in place.
> 
> “You don’t have to say it crow. But I need you to know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angsty angst. Apparently, I have excess that I need to get out in 2020. But I've been saying all along that our boys have gone through so much and deserve a happy ending. I promise, we are finally close! I have had a lot of fun getting here... thank you for following along!

They had returned very late from the lake and managed to sneak past most of the clan until Tormund ran smack into Yrsa as she tended fire on the edge of the encampment. She scolded them mercilessly until Tormund reminded her that he was chief. Jon recalled how sweetly she had smiled at him before smacking him hard across the back of the head. Jon had let a chuckle slip out at that, and both had rounded on him glaring. He had excused himself then, backing away into Tormund’s tent while the other two continued to argue.

Several minutes later Tormund had entered the tent rambling under his breath in a grumpy tone. He had peeled off all his clothes in a huff and plopped down next to Jon, scooping him in tight against his chest and muttering something about gods and hell and being in charge. Jon had let himself be tucked in close, smiling as Tormund rambled on in a mix of languages. 

A knock at the tent woke Jon from a peaceful dream. He squinted against the morning light and relaxed when he recognized Ivar’s voice. 

“Tormund, the great stag has been spotted North of here near the black hills”

Tormund who was not fully awake yet grumbled, “Alright alright. Wait, we’ll be there”. And Ivar nodded and moved away.

“A stag?” Jon asked interested as Tormund released him to stretch stiff arms over his head.

“An impressive beast for sure. I’ve been on its trail several times but always he’s able to evade me. This false summer will not last forever. The nights grow colder and the free folk ride north soon.” Tormund lowered his eyes when Jon looked at him then. “We need to increase our provisions for the journey”

Jon smiled softly and reached for his bow, “We better not fail your people this time then” 

A party of 6 men set out toward the black hills several miles north of camp. Hours passed and they had still not come upon fresh tracks.

“We need to split up if we are going to find this beast before nightfall. Ivar, take a man and go east around the ridge, you other two go west. Jon and I will go straight up the hill and try and drive him down toward you. If it gets late, plan to meet back at camp just after nightfall.

The men split up and Jon and Tor pushed upwards, moving through the tree line looking for any sign that this stag may be close. Jon was beginning to doubt their luck today. The sun was already dipping in the sky and he could feel the wind picking up as the temperature lowered. They had nearly reached the top of the ridge when he heard Tormund behind him.

“Snow, look at this”

The seriousness in Tormund’s voice made him turn. He bent low to inspect where he was pointing and gave out a surprised huff when he was pulled down into an unsuspecting kiss. 

Jon chuckled softly “Hey, I thought we were hunting here”

“I am hunting” Tormund said with a mischievous glint in his eye. He lifted Jon off the ground easily and started walking him backwards. But Jon had other ideas. He slid his elbows down hard, breaking Tormund’s bear hug. He laughed a bit at the confused look in those blue eyes, then threw his forearm across his chest and pushed him back hard against the awaiting tree. Tormund winced as the back of his head hit the tree trunk and then Jon watched his eyes grow dark as he fisted his hands into the front of Jon’s tunic. Jon leaned in close, running his tongue over Tormund’s lower lip and catching it between his teeth. His arm was still pressed firmly against him, and he could feel the rumble start deep in the bigger man’s chest. 

Tormund’s strong hands moved from his hips, sliding roughly up his back and deep into Jon’s curls. He laced his fingers in gently, but pulled Jon impossibly close. Foreheads touching, Tormund licked his lips and growled low.

“I love you”.

Jon’s heart stuttered He opened his mouth but no words came. He made to pull back slightly but Tormund held him in place.

“You don’t have to say it crow. But I need you to know”

Jon stood locked in Tormund’s gaze. His heart hammered in his chest as his mind raced to make sense of what he was feeling. Tormund sealed their lips together then and Jon’s knees felt week. Both of their heads snapped as their attention was diverted to the cracking of branches in the distance. 

Tormund pulled back, releasing Jon as they both sank low to the ground. Crawling quietly up to the very top of the ridge, Jon had to hold his breath at the sight. The stag was huge. A beautiful creature with a sprawling rack, Jon was sure he had never seen one so large. He gestured at Tormund to stay low and the red head crawled slowly to a tree a few feet to Jon’s right for more cover.

Jon pulled an arrow from his quiver and nocked, nodding at Tormund before pulling back in a steady motion. He lined the beast up and steadied his own heart with a few deliberate breaths.

“Gahhhh damn!” Tormund shouted from out of no where.

With a start, the stag bolted, and Jon released the tension in his arm.

“What was that?” he groaned, rounding on Tormund with an annoyed tone.

He watched as Tormund drew his axe and hacked at something in the brush he could not see. When he came closer, he realized what had happened. 

Tormund leaned against the tree clutching his calf. A severed snake head lay at his feet. Jon crouched to inspect the animal. An Adder, he was certain. When he locked eyes with Tormund again, they both knew.

Jon pulled his own dirk, “I’ll need to cut it, suck out the poison.”

Tormund nodded pulling a small skin from his inside pocket and downed a few swallows of the liquid that managed to singe the hair on Jon’s nose from feet away.

Jon crouched down and bracketed Tormund’s calf between his thighs. He slid his dirk through the skin marked by the snakes fangs and pressed his own mouth to the wound sucking as hard as he could. Tormund grunted, squeezing Jon’s knee like a vice as he worked. He spat out mouth fulls of blood and venom until Tormund pushed him off in agony.

“Enough, you’ll bleed me dry” 

Jon stood up immediately, washing his mouth out with the strong liquor and surveying their surroundings. “There’s no sign of anyone, can you walk?”

Tormund lifted slowly from the ground, grimacing badly and then slid back down the trunk of the tree.

“Go find the others. I’ll wait here”.

Jon sheathed his weapon and hovered a few more moments before finally nodding and gathering up his bow. He moved quickly through the tree line, shouting and banging his bow against trunks as he moved, but found no one.

When Jon returned, he found Tormund sitting by a small fire he had made with some nearby brush. As Jon moved closer, he saw the bigger man spinning the snake on a spit over the flames.

He ripped a piece off and threw it into his mouth in dramatic style. “Fair is fair.”

Jon chuckled but as he knelt near the flames, fear flared in his chest. The red head’s eyes were rimmed in red and sweat beaded on his brow. His chest moved in and out quickly and he grimaced with the slightest of movements. Jon could see redness spreading from the bandage site Tormund had fashioned over the wound.

“No sign of the men then?”

“No”, Jon sighed. He held his face as neutral as he could but his mind was racing. The sun was nearly gone now and there was no way he could carry Tormund down the hill in the dark on his own. He could leave him and venture further toward the camp in search of help, but Tormund would be easy prey to the bears and shadow cats that roamed these hills after night fall. 

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine crow.” Tormund said confidently raising his chin.

“Are you sure?”

Tormund sighed after a minute, shaking his head just a bit. “It feels like a thousand needles pricking my leg at once, and my lips are numb.” 

Jon nodded, reaching for the small skin that lay nearby and handing it to Tormund. 

He drank deep and lowered his upper body to the ground in exhaustion. Jon pulled some clothing from his pack and slid it gently under his head.

“Rest then, we’ll leave at first light”

Tormund hummed, eyes closing as Jon settled himself nearby.

The hour grew late, but Jon stayed awake, listening to an owl screeching overhead and trying to focus on Tormund’s uneven breathing. He should be doing something, should be finding some help. But he couldn’t leave him unprotected. He ran different scenarios over in his mind while fashioning a crude sledge from materials he had on hand. He was pulled forcefully from his own head when Tormund shrieked. 

JON!? JON!? He screamed, shaking violently in his makeshift bed. 

Jon slid in close to him and grabbed his shoulder as he shook. “Tormund! I’m here. I’m here with you” 

Tormund opened his eyes and looked around wildly before seemingly remembering where he was. “Blue eyes”, he rasped out. “I couldn’t find you!” 

Jon shushed him again. “I’m here. You’re not alone.” Tormund’s breathing eased a bit, as he slid his hands up and down Jon’s arms as if checking he was real. Once settled again, he let Jon guide him gently back to the ground. “Try and get some rest ok?”.

“Jon if something happens promise me you’ll…” 

“I don’t have to promise you anything,” Jon interrupted, “because you are going to be fine”. He pressed the skin to Tormund’s lips again and he gulped a few more mouthfuls. 

Tormund coughed a bit and then grinned wide at him. “Have you no shame crow? Now’s not the time for getting me drunk so you can have your way with me”. 

“Yah well, anything to shut you up” Jon smirked.

Several long moments passed before he heard Tormund whisper, “It was selfish of me to pull you back in.”

“What?”

“You were finally free of all that guilt your southern heart insisted on carrying. Free to spend your days in those Winterfell hot springs, with your pretty wife and darling children”

“What are you talking about Tormund?”

“You were free...” Tormund trailed off shaking his head before closing his eyes again. 

Jon chest tightened a bit, but he set back to work on the sledge.

Dawn light peaked through the trees as Jon lumbered down the ridge, dragging the bigger man on the sledge he had fashioned through the night. It had only been a few hours, but his muscles were already on fire from the strain. Jon gritted his teeth as sweat rolled off his brow burning his eyes. 

Tormund moaned and Jon stopped short, easing the sledge down to the ground and reaching for Tormund’s hands. His skin was flushed red and his forehead was near boiling. Despite the heat emanating off him, Tormund’s body shook with violent shivers as Jon removed one of his outer layers and laid it across his chest. He pulled the bandage back from Tormund leg to find the wound even more swollen, angry spider like veins jetting out from it in all directions. 

He sat back on his knees, closing his eyes for a moment trying to figure out if there was anything else he could do. When he opened them again, he found Tormund’s eyes on him. 

“Give my axes to Ivar” Tormund gritted out, “That fucker’s been eyeing them for years”

“Tormund”

“And tell Yrsa I am sorry for all the hell I’ve put her through. She’s a pain in the ass but she’s been like a mother to us all.”

“Tor”

“Promise me crow.” He said quietly, and Jon clenched his jaw at the desperation in his voice. “You don’t remember, but you are free folk now and they will follow you. They need you to see them safely home”. He mumbled a few more words about love and trust and then drifted off to sleep again and Jon rubbed his hand over his face. 

As he sat there on his haunches, his mind drifted to blood red tears seeping from a bone white tree. It had been a long time since he had thought of the old gods, since he had asked them for anything. He shook the image violently from his head and jumped at a sound to his right. Ruby eyes found his and Jon sighed deep. Ghost.

“Gods I am glad to see you boy”

Ghost inched over and rubbed his snout against Jon’s cheek. Then, soundlessly he moved up Tormund’s body until he reached his neck. He slid in close then, laying his huge head protectively across Tormund’s wide chest. 

“No, we aren’t giving up. We need to get him back to camp”

With that Ghost rose to his feet, allowing Jon to tie a bit of rope to one corner of the sledge and secure it gently around the beast’s chest. He picked up the other corner and they began pulling Tormund down the ridge again at a pace that brought some hope to Jon’s heart. 

It was still well into midday before Jon spotted Ivar and some of their hunting party heading toward them from camp. He passed the sledge to Ivar and fell to the ground exhausted. He nearly cried out in agony as some of the others drew him up to his feet again. He leaned heavy on their shoulders as they all pulled Tormund the rest of the way back to camp.

When they got there Yrsa was already barking orders. The men pulled Tormund into her tent and laid him on a makeshift table. Some of the free folk tried to push water and food into Jon’s hands but he refused it all, dragging himself into the tent as soon as he got some feeling back into his own legs. The air was thick with herbs, and steam rose from the pot Yrsa was muttering over in the corner. 

“Hold him”

“What?” Exhaustion was setting in and the heat in the tent was making Jon feel dizzy.

“Hold him down, this is gonna hurt”. Yrsa pulled a rag from the pot and headed to where Tormund lay. Jon darted for his shoulders and was nearly thrown back from the table when the rag hit Tormund’s wound. The sound that left Tormund’s lips was pure anguish and it grated heavily against Jon’s soul. Tormund flailed his arms and legs wildly, but Jon managed to keep his chest flat on the table as Yrsa wrapped the wound tightly muttering in a tongue Jon didn’t recognize. She chanted for what seemed like hours, but Jon held on with every last bit of strength he had. 

Eventually, her chanting died off and Tormund passed out from the pain or exhaustion or both Jon wasn’t sure. He eased his weight from the table and collapsed on a nearby chair. 

“Is he going to be ok?”

Yrsa sighed, gathering herself before she spoke. “This poultice is strong, but the poison has spread wide. He will need to fight.”

Jon sighed deep, “He shouldn’t even be here. He shouldn’t have to fight.”

“Baby crow.” She laughed, not unkindly. “Tormund has been fighting his whole life. When he was young, he would pick fights with anyone bigger than him. Trying desperately to earn his place among the warriors of our group. He feared nothing then. But its easy to be fearless when you love only yourself. Now, he is full of fear. It presses on him like an anvil, but he is stronger for it. He fights for what he loves now. For us,” she waved her hands as if to include the whole camp, “and for you.” 

She rarely shared her thoughts with so many words. It was clear she was being kind, and Jon gave her his best smile. But a storm raged behind his eyes. This was his fault. Tormund had lingered here to save him. Save him from crows and ice, from dead men and dragons. Professing his undying devotion to a man who just weeks ago couldn’t even remember his name. 

“Come boy, you need to eat something”

Jon leaned on the table and rested his head in his folded arms. “I’m not going anywhere” As he said it, Ghost entered the tent with a huff and curled up under the table beside him. 

Yrsa shook her head but did not argue, sliding out of the tent as Jon closed his eyes. 

Jon opened his eyes and found Yrsa speaking to Tormund in the old tongue. Hours must have passed, as the sun had faded and the only light was from the fire burning in the corner. When they noticed he had woken up, Yrsa left them again.

“Hey,” Jon said rubbing the sleep from his eyes and pulling his chair closer so he could see in the darkened tent, “You’re awake. Are you feeling better?” Tormund’s eyes fluttered open and closed, and he looked paler than before, if that was even possible. He looked so weak, Jon wanted to curl around him and snap violently at anyone who came near.

“I thought I was, but now I’m not so sure” Tormund whispered, half a smile on his lips

“What do you mean?”

“When I was young and hurt myself doing something stupid, Yrsa would scold me fiercely. Today she’s almost tender.” He gritted his teeth as he shifted his weight slightly on the table. “She hasn’t slapped me over the head once, and no one is calling me any wicked names.” He huffed out a small laugh, “Does this mean you all think I am dying?” 

“Fine, you damn fool!” Jon hit the table in mock anger “What am I to do with you? How stupid can you be, stepping on a snake?

Another small laugh, and then Tormund winced in reflex.

“How is the pain, do you need more liquor?”

Tormund shook his head a little, waving him off with a flick of his fingers.

“Tormund?”, he was quiet, much too quiet, and Jon felt fear crawl into his chest again

“No, no pain”. Tormund muttered again, “Just feel tired”. Tormund’s muscles twitched under Jon’s hand as if he was falling asleep. “Don’t leave me” 

Jon shook his head and threaded his fingers through Tormund’s left hand. “I will never leave you”.

Tormund hummed, but Jon wasn’t sure he had heard him. His own throat was closing up and he choked down a sob. Despair turned in his stomach, twisting and coiling again into cool anger. He heard ghost growl low at his feet as he closed his own eyes and breathed out a prayer, a warning. “Do not take him. Don’t you dare. I swear by all the gods I’ll…”

“It’s no use crow.” Tormund interrupted with a small squeeze of his fingers. “All the horrors we’ve seen. I stopped believing in gods a long time ago. Tormund’s eyes went glassy and his voice grew hushed. “The only thing that I still believe in is you.” 

Jon’s heart howled, shattering like broken glass. He had been a coward. So afraid of making the wrong decision, he hadn’t realized there was no decision to be made.

Tormund twisted a little uncomfortably “Mm’cold.”

Jon nodded and edged himself up onto the table, sliding in tight to Tormund’s side. He felt the bigger man relax against him as he wrapped him up as best he could in his arms and tucked his head into the crook of his neck. “Can you hear me?” Jon breathed into his ear, lacing trembling fingers into fiery red curls and squeezing gently as Tormund had done on the ridge. “I love you too”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are in the home stretch now. One more chapter <3 Thank you all for staying with me!


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